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A SENORITA ARISTOCRATICA. 



An American Girl 
In Mexico 



By Elizabeth Visere McGary 



With Illustrations 



New York 

1904 



i i i 1 o 9 3 J 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Ooples Rocelved 
MAY 27 1904 

H*"~yil£ht Entry 
^ XXo. Na 
COPY B 






Copyright, 1903, 

by 

ELIZABETH McGARY, 

in the 

United States 

and. 

Great Britain. 

Entered at Stationers' Hall, 

London. 

All Rights Reserved. 

PnbMshed, March, 190U. 



An American Girl in Mexico 



. ;. -fc ^ 




TO MY FRIENDS, 

THE MEXICANS AMONG WHOM I FOUND SUCH A 
HAPPY HOME. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE. 

A Senorita Aristocratica Frontispiece 

A Child of Nature 8 " 

Monterey Between the Bishop's Palace and 

Saddle Mountain i6 

A Small Burden for a Peon 22 

Taking a Sunbath Before Their Palm Hut . 32 

The "Aqua Fresca'" Man 42 -- 

Patiently Awaiting Customers 46/ 

A Mexican Wedding Invitation 52 '" 

"Playing the Bear" 58'' 

My Innocent Maid — Trinidad Tz 

Cathedral de San Fernando 78 

Pedro with the Nina of Luz 82 -^ 

Extracting the Favorite Pulque — the Curse 

OF the Peon . 84 ' 

"The Blind Lead the Blind'' . 90 

A Hallway in the House of the Senora's 

Brother 132' 

A Happy Home Circle 154 



AN AMERICAN GIRL IN MEXICO. 



CHAPTER I. 

To one who has never known the joy of 
basking idly beneath the influence of Mex- 
ico's soft sunshine^ description seems extrav- 
agant. There is something inexpressibly 
pleasing in every phase of that Edenic 
climate. The moment I stepped from the 
train early one morning at Monterey into 
brighter sunshine than I had ever known 
before and viewed the soft; white heaps of 
clouds on the surrounding red mountains, 
I knew that an extravaganza on its charms 
would be an impossibility. 

The choice of transport to the hotels af- 
ter leaving the stuffy little sleeper lay be- 



2 An American Girl in Mexico. 

tAveen a quaint mule car and an old coach of 
^"he model of 1850. While we were debating 
which we should take, the more progressive 
itinerants rumbled away in everj^ available 
'coach, and, not much disappointed, we be- 
took ourselves to the little yellow car, on 
the platform of which sat the driver, lazily 
reveling in one of the native shuck-wrapped 
cigarettes. It was several minutes before 
he aroused himself to the realization of his 
responsibilities, when he took one last, lov- 
ing puff at his ^^cigarro'' — gave a shrill 
whistle between his teeth — a characteristic 
sound with them in driving — and lashed the 
mules severely with his big black whip. 
Away they clattered over the white stone 
street, so fast that we found the fresh morn- 
ing air rather chilling and drew our wraps 
more closely about us. The car drivers 
wear long black cloaks, with hoods shaped 
like those on golf capes, and these they pull 
over their faces until only their black eyes I 
peep out. On all the sidewalks men and 



An American Girl in Mexico. 3 

women were crouched as if freezing, com- 
pletely enveloped in crimson blankets. These 
are drawn up over their heads until one 
finds it difficult to distinguish a man from 
a woman. 

These blankets are among the essentials 
of a wardrobe; a child hoards up his first 
pennies toward the purchase of one of his 
own, and seems thoroughly self-satisfied 
when wrapped in its warm folds. The day 
really never grows cold enough to require 
such protection, but from their viewpoint 
it is never too warm for a blanket to be a 
comfort. On the warmest July day one can 
see these animated red and purple blankets 
on every street corner. 

On a bright January morning, such as 
that of our arrival, w^ords are inade- 
quate to express the picturesqueness of 
a street scene. It is remarkable that in so 
ifehort a journey one can reach a land so 
'fascinatingly foreign as that upon which 
we gazed that morning from our little side- 



4 An American Girl in Mexico. 

tracked sleeper. The blanketed popula- 
tion, the brown children, hairless dogs and 
Spanish music were to us like a scenic pro- 
duction in some fine theatre, as we rattled 
on behind the little mules, that every few 
minutes received a sharp reminder of their 
duty in the form of a sounding stroke from 
the driver's whip, which he had just energy 
enough to administer. 

After what seemed to us a pleasantly 
endless circuit up one stony street and down 
another, we alighted at a quaint looking 
hotel. A German clerk received us with 
the most elaborate mixture of Oorman and 
Spanish manners, and, as soon as we had 
registered, proceeded to write our names on 
a blackboard which hung in the entry, with 
the number of the room opposite each name. 
Then we went to breakfast. 

Such a time as we had! Not one of us 
knew a word of Spanish, and not a waiter 
knew our language; but as my purpose in 
coming was to learn theirs, I became 



An American Girl in Mexico. 5 

spokesman for the party. When I bade fare- 
well to my friends at home I laughingly 
told them that I knew only one word of 
Spanish — '^cochero'^ — which means coach- 
man, and they told me that "a little learning 
is a dangerous thing." Circumstances had 
even denied me an exposition of this knowl- 
edge by leaving us without a coach that 
morning. By gesticulating and pointing at 
what others were eating, and other 
methods, more effective than elegant, we 
finally had a breakfast before us. The least 
said of that breakfast the better. I know 
only that w^e would gladly have exchanged 
the same, novelty thrown in, for one at 
home. But we laughed more than we ate, 
and we ate a good deal, too. My spirits fell 
when I thought that in a few days I would 
be left here alone, but I tried to put the 
thought aside. The hall boy acts as boot- 
black, porter, messenger and chambermaid. 
He runs a free school for the dissemination 
of Spanish to the ignorant guests. This he 



6 An American Girl in Mexico. 

does ^^con mucho gusto'' if he can under- 
stand the questions put to him in the almost 
baby talk that Americans use in speaking to 
a Mexican. 

There was more laughter when we 
went up to our rooms. Such a quaint place 
as a Mexican hotel is built entirely of 
stone, both floors and walls, upstairs and 
down ! The rooms are in a circle around a 
patio or court. This is brilliant with all 
kinds of lovely flowers, and filled with their 
fragrance. Pigeons plash in the cool waters 
of a fountain in the centre all day long. 
This patio makes a beautiful picture, with 
the mild but radiant sunshine streaming 
over it, lending a thousand prismatic colors 
to the waters of the fountain. There is 
such a sense of novelty in Mexico. Even 
the clank, clank of shoes up the stone stairs 
has a strange, new sound. The galleries are 
filled with people lounging in big, rope rock- 
ers, some chatting, others reading, but more 
dozing lazily, even in the early morning. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 7 

Our rooms had double doors, one above the 
other. The lower one, about four feet high, 
could be locked and the other left open. 

The furniture was unlike any I ever saw. 
The use of single black iron bedsteads is 
almost universal throughout the Eepublic 
— an inconsistent evidence of their knowl- 
edge of hygiene. My room was in black, 
and had a big, hemp rug on the floor. After 
a two hours' ^^siestw'' we went down on the 
plaza in front of the hotel, and sat in mute 
admiration until the dinner hour. The plaza 
is a large square, beautiful with flowers and 
palm-trees. There was every kind of flower, 
even to magnolias in abundance, and foun- 
tains played among the trees. Every shady 
nook Is fitted with a bench, and from the 
bandstand in the centre, almost hidden 
amid the trees, the soft, sensuous music of 
stringed instruments delights the idlers 
there nearly every evening. Plaza Hidalgo ^ 
smaller than the favorite Zaragosa, is most 
of the year aflame with crimson poppies, 



8 An American Girl in Mexico. 

whose somnolent qualities under the influ- 
ence of the sun produce a delicious languor 
upon the loiterer there. 

All classes of people gather on the plazas 
in the evening. There are three walks laid 
out. The one on the edge is for the people 
of the higher class, and for all Americans; 
the next for those of the middle class, and 
on the inside walk throng the ^^peons/^ or 
people of the lower classes. That they know 
so well how to take their proper place was 
a constant wonder to me; it is seldom that 
one forgets, but if he does, and tries to 
tread a walk too high, one of the little dried- 
up looking policemen takes pleasure in 
ejecting Mm. The men and women walk 
in different directions unless married, when 
they are permitted to stroll arm in arm. 
"StrolF' seems hardly the correct word, as 
they walk very rapidly, perhaps in order 
that they may meet their friends of the 
opposite sex oftener, and enjoy their little 
greeting, ^^adiosJ' This word, translated, 




A CHILD OF NATURE. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 9 

means "To God/' and was originally in- 
tended as our word good-bye, but has come 
to be the usual greeting among intimate 
friends. 

On the afternoon of our first day in Mex- 
ico an important event occurred. A friend 
of mine in the States had managed to secure 
the promise of a boarding place for me in 
the home of a one-time Governor, this 
friend having long been on intimate terms 
with the family; on this afternoon, accord- 
ing to earlier arrangements, we went to 
their home to meet them. We were to take 
merenda, or five o'clock tea, with them, 
and I was not to return until the day of 
the departure of my companions. 

When the carriage, after rumbling and 
bouncing over stones as large as my head, 
pf which Calle de San Francisco is particu- 
larly full, at last drew up before an im- 
mense door, the cochero rapped loudly 
with the brass knocker, and I sat wondering 
whether I could live amid such strangeness, 



lO An American Girl in Mexico. 

until the patter of feet was heard, the iron 
bar was drawn back and a brown face ap- 
peared inside the massive doorway. The 
boy led us into an old-fashioned parlor with 
mirrors on every side. All houses there 
have a superabundance of mirrors. They 
rank next in importance to food, for the 
Mexicans are a vain people. 

Soon the Senora came in, a stately woman 
dressed in black, with a lace mantilla over 
her head. Extending her pretty hands, she 
came to me, and stooping, kissed mine in 
the most graceful manner, and said some- 
thing I felt sure was pleasant because her 
smile was, though I couldn't understand a 
word. Fortunately a smile is the same the 
world over. 

Her two daughters followed her, dressed 
in simple white, with white lace mantillas^ 
and when they were introduced, kissed my 
hand, and I think said the same words of 
greeting. Such deference was likely to be 
disconcerting, and I was just congratulating 



An American Girl in Mexico. 1 1 

myself that I had not received it awkwardly, 
when Senor Carlos, the son, was presented. 
He dropped on one knee, in true cavalier 
style, and, taking both my hands in his, 
gently pressed his lips to them. I was 
almost overwhelmed. It seems that special 
greeting was extended me because I was 
to become a member of the household. I 
had now met all the members of the fam- 
ily, as the father had been dead some years. 
I was relieved that there were no more, and 
little thought then that before many months 
had passed I would bow over the Senora's 
hand and touch my lips to it. Neverthe- 
less, the adage about being in Rome and do- 
ing as Rome does was carried out. 

After the greetings were over, they all 
laughed merrily at our position, for we were 
unable to exchange even the most casual 
remarks about the weather, and even if we 
had been able to do this it would have been 
rather foolish as the weather is always the 
same. 



1 2 An American Girl in Mexico. 

It was but a few minutes till the little, 
brown domestic who had met us at the door 
drew aside the portieres, and made an an- 
nouncement that we guessed to be luncheon, 
as the family beckoned us to rise. We were 
ushered into a patio where, beneath an im- 
mense orange tree covered with blossoms 
and big golden oranges, was spread a snowy 
table. Pigeons fluttered among the flow- 
ers, cooing softly, and the picture could not 
have been more complete. 

The luncheon was simple. Enchiladas 
formed the flrst course. Enchiladas are 
much like tamales^ except that they contain 
Mexican cheese, and onions. These were 
served with hot tortillas, which are very 
thin, white corn cakes, made of boiled corn 
ground as fine as flour, and bleached, and 
are brought in every few minutes fresh from 
the griddle just inside the kitchen door, 
where the cook kneels in full view, patting 
them out noisily. This patting of ^Hortillas'^ 
is an odd sound, more like the severe chas- 



An American Girl in Mexico* 13 

tisement of a child with the hand than any- 
thing else. Next came nut macaroons, and 
chocolate with whipped cream, and when 
the last sign of this had been removed, 
wine and mangoes were served. Mangoes 
are a delicious fruit, yellow and juicy — a 
marked favorite, and ours were served in 
blue, china plates with silver single-pronged 
forks. I learned to like them so well that 
when I became homesick I would go out 
into the street and buy one, for it is almost 
possible to forget all else in the trouble and 
enjoyment of eating them. When the me- 
renda was over they showed us through 
the patio we then sat in, giving each 
some orange blossoms and a huge or- 
ange from the tree over the table. After 
they had shown us another patio back of 
this one with trees and sleepy hens in it, 
we left, helplessly trying to make them un- 
derstand that we had had a pleasant visit, 
and that I would be back on Thursday ; but 
they would only shake their heads and say, 



14 An American Girl in Mexico. 

^^Bien, hieti.^^ The Senora had patted me on 
the cheek and said ^^Slmpatica^' several 
times, and, as I was sure she meant some- 
thing nice (for a Spaniard never says any- 
thing to one's face that isn't nice) I departed 
in high spirits. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 15 



CHAPTER 11. 

The next afternoon we took the car ont to 
the Bishop's Palace, a grand old historic 
building, with its secret entrances and exits 
and blood spattered walls, to which the 
guide points with horror depicted on his 
fa.ce, though on close examination the spots 
look strangely like splotches of red paint. 
The walls had thousands of names carved 
on their dingy surfaces — names of people 
from every land — some carved many, many 
years ago. It is a long steep ascent from 
the car line to the top of the hill, but 
this climb is made on burros, which may be 
hired at the foot of the mountain. The lit- 
tle animals pick their way carefully among 
the rocks and seem as faithful as humans. 



1 6 An American Girl in Mexico. 

An ascent that a burro cannot climb must 
partake of the perpendicular. Far to the left 
of this hill can be seen nestling in the dis- 
tant valley, the little hamlet of Santa Cata- 
rina, and the beautiful Saddle Mountain, 
considered the finest in Mexico. And there 
are no mountains in the world grander than 
theirs rising up majestically on every side. 
Several miles to the right is the "bone- 
yard," where there are thousands of skele- 
tons. Burial lots may be leased for periods 
of two years in which bodies are buried. 
At the expiration of two years, unless the 
lease be renewed, the skeleton is exhumed 
and thrown into the bone-yard. Plenty of 
people are too poor to stand the expense of 
keeping their loved ones underground, and 
the bone-yard does not lack for gruesome 
blanched bones. 

We saw some tourists do a daring deed. 
They rode, or at least started to ride, down 
the Bishop's Hill on their wheels. Losing 
control, they were precipitated down the hill 



An American Girl in Mexico. i"/ 

at a most remarkable speed. Strange to say, 
they did not collide. Reaching the base at 
nearly the same time, they flew over the 
handle-bars in such perfect unison that one 
would almost have thought this acrobatic 
ending a planned feature of the ride. Not 
one of the rough riders seemed injured, al- 
though my hair almost stood on end and my 
mind went faster than the wheels^ — so fast 
that I saw in imagination three funerals. 
Speaking of funerals, reminds me of some 
we saw. One was an elegant cortege headed 
by a street car draped in black, drawn by 
two black horses. This bore the coffin ; thus 
is a man of wealth laid away. The less well- 
to-do people set the coffin on a sort of cart 
pulled by an unpretentious burro, which 
transports it to the city of the dead. Some 
are so poor that the relatives or friends have 
to carry the coffin between them. I saw a 
pathetic sight one day. A man had a tiny 
coffin on his shoulder, and trudged along, 
followed by a weeping woman and two chil- 



1 8 An American Girl in Mexico. 

dren with wide open, wondering ejes. I 
supposed this to be a broken family circle. 

Thursday came all too soon, and in the 
evening I went with reluctant feet to my 
new home. They met us in the most friendly 
manner, the Seiiora patting my cheek and 
saying that word simpatica again. I after- 
ward learned that it has no exact English 
equivalent. Literally translated it means 
"thoroughly in sympathy with, by manners 
and appearance." The wife oif an American 
Consul in Mexico said that she had discov- 
ered it to mean simply "all right." 

Seating guests is a laborious if pleasant | 

ceremony. Visitor and host vie with each 

other in politeness — extending their hands 

deprecatingly — patting one another on the | 

shoulder and smiling winningly. The right- s 

I 
hand end of the sofa, that most cherished i 

piece of furniture, is always reserved for ! 
the guest of honor, as is the right side of 
the seat of a carriage. The host always re- 
signs his seat at the table to a guest. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 19 

Every one tried to look pleasant and un- 
concerned, but when the cathedral clock 
struck nine, my friends rose to go, for the 
train left at ten. I bore up bravely until I 
had said good-bye to the last one; then, 
bursting into tears, I wailed : "Oh, take me 
back home with you !" 

They came back and talked a few minutes 
longer, and actually considered my return- 
ing with them until visions of my ignomini- 
ous failure rose before me should I return 
home after my long-founded determina- 
tion to come and carry out my cherished 
dream. I thought of the persuasion it had 
taken to carry my point, so I said "No." 
But when the carriage bore them away, I 
sank down in an abandonment of grief, 
which greatly distressed my sympathetic 
new friends. ^^Pohrecita senorita solita'^ 
("poor little girl all alone") the Senora 
would murmur prettily as she patted 
my wet cheek, and the ^^pohrecita se- 
norita solitw'' nestled very willingly in 



20 An American Girl in Mexico. 

the motherlj arms, listening, uncon- 
sciously comforted, to the endearing 
words. They hovered over me caressingly, 
even trying to dry my constantly refilling 
eyes, until, finally, I had to laugh. Then 
they took me to my room, where I was 
greeted by the sight of my trunks. I was 
deep in admiration of the old family por- 
traits, rope-rockers, the stone floor with its 
bright native rugs, and open iron-barred 
windows with real June roses peeping mod- 
estly in, when I heard the clock strike ten. 
Then I faltered out ^^adios'^ and crawled into 
bed to bury my face in the pillow and sob 
myself to sleep, for I knew my friends had 
gone, that I was alone, "a stranger in a 
strange land." I was seriously doubting 
whether I cared much about learning Span- 
ish after all, when I fell asleep to the far- 
away strains of that plaintive song "La 
Golondrina." 

I was awakened next morning by hearing 
a voice call : "Senorita, Senorita," at 



An American Girl in Mexico. 21 

my window, and, peeping ont, saw^ the same 
brown face that had greeted us upon our 
arrival, only now it was brightened by a 
smile of recognition and friendliness. 
Soon there came a knock at the door. 
A girl entered, who silently took me 
by the hand, led me to the bathroom, filled 
the tub from the deep well by the door and 
brought my clothes. After my bath she 
started to arrange my hair, but I insisted on 
doing this myself, for I had never in my 
life had a maid. I marveled at the number 
of servants I had already seen, but later 
learned that the poor domestics are paid 
almost nothing for their services, so that the 
price a family in the States would pay a 
cook would there keep almost a half dozen 
servants. The cook of this household, a fat, 
good-natured woman, who came at seven in 
the morning and left at eleven at night, was 
paid ten Mexican dollars monthly, which is 
a little more than four of our money. She 
prepared breakfast, served coffee at eleven 



22 An American Girl in Mexico. 

o'clock, luncheon at one, a merenda at 
five, and at eight dinner is served in courses. 
S^iior Carlos seldom came in until ten, 
when she would prepare a fresh meal for 
him. But a happier soul than Luz it would 
be hard to find. The boy who answered the 
bell was her son, a dwarfed creature of six- 
teen, with a solemn face many years too 
old for the little body. If one could have a 
dollair for every step Pedro took during the 
day, pacing back and forth with tortillas, 
that person would be rich indeed, yet he re- 
ceived only two dollars and fifty cents a 
month, Mexican money, for all that work. 
When one sees these conditions — sees faith- 
ful sewing girls work twelve hours a day 
for twenty-five cents, Mexican money, and 
only skilled hands receive more, eating 
their dinner with the servants, and be- 
ing in every way treated without considera- 
tion, the heart is filled with pity. 

In a household of affluence there is hardly 
a limit to the number of servants. At least 




A SMALL BURDEN FOR A PEON. 



An American Giri in Mexico. 23 

in a pretentious home may always be found 
a portero (doorkeeper), coeliero (coach- 
man), recamerera (chambermaid), la^un^ 
dera (laundress), planchadora (ironing 
woman), cdhallerango (hostler), mozo 
(cheerful runner of all errands), cocinera 
(cook), molendera (woman who grinds 
corn), and, most pompous of all, the lacayo, 
or footman. Families leading a more mod- 
est existence endure the hardships of having 
but five or six servants. A lady never sum- 
mons her help except by slapping the hands 
quickly together; this method is also used 
in the streets for calling an inferior. Serv- 
ants call their mistress Nina, which means 
baby or child. It is pathetic to hear them, 
when rebuked, remonstrate gently, ^^pues 
nina'' (but baby). In beckoning, a Mex- 
can turns the palm of his hand outward — 
the exact reverse of our motion. 

The peons subsist entirely on the clammy 
cold tortillas and the native boiled frijole 
beans, enough of which can be bought for 



24 An American Girl in Mexico. 

a few pennies to feed a family all day. No 
housekeeper furnishes her servants any 
other food than this. Perhaps this is the 
reason that Pedro, who carried tortillas^ 
answered the bell, aroused the household 
and announced meals, presented what 
seemed to me such an old, unsmiling face for 
a child. 

I shall never forget one detail of that first 
breakfast. Senor Carlos bowed low, and 
pinned a spray of orange blossoms on me, 
and the girls laughed, when I, not realizing 
its inappropriateness, said ^'^adios.'' Their 
mother shook her head at them covertly, and, 
patting me on the cheek, called me ^^Eijita 
Americana'' which means "little American 
daughter." They had expressed themselves 
to our mutual friend as eager to learn Eng- 
lish, assigning this as their reason for re- 
ceiving me into their home, for they are a 
people strangely averse to admitting outsid- 
ers to their households. I foresaw that they 
would learn no English, and they never even 



An American Girl in Mexico. 25 

made an attempt after Senor Carlos' first 
and last effort. He walked up to me one 
day, and with a sweeping bow, said in Eng- 
lish: "Senorita, to-day a full bite. Go?" I 
should not have understood enough to laugh 
if I had not already been reading about the 
big bull-fight. When he realized that he 
had made a mistake, he laughed too, but 
never attempted another sentence in Eng- 
lish. SeSor Carlos never for a moment for- 
got his elegant manners and bows. He was 
always as attentive as on that first morning 
at breakfast, when everything seemed so 
strange and new to me. Senora asked if I 
wanted leche de cobra or leche de vaca, 
which means goat's milk or cow's milk, but 
as I couldn't understand, she had me taste 
a little of each. One almost took my breath 
away with its strong and peculiar flavor. 
This I hastily rejected, and wondered how 
the family could prefer it. I never learned 
to drink leche de cobra. 

In the primitive kitchen of every house- 



26 An American Girl in Mexico. 

hold can be seen a metate, a ponderous 
kitchen essential, that is cut from gray 
stone, and is hollowed out like a shallow pan. 
The boiled corn for making tortillas and 
tamales is crushed in this. 

Of course, the cooking was unlike Amer- 
ican cooking. The eggs were made into lit- 
tle highly peppered pats, and the steak was 
so flavored with herbs that I could hardly 
force it down. Bread, butter and coffee were 
the only things that seemed natural, and 
the butter may have been made from goat's 
milk. My first dinner impressed me even 
more, so much so that I made out a menu 
card and sent it home by the next mail. 

First, they had consomme, as they called 
it, though unlike any consomme I had ever 
eaten. The value of this dish was not en- 
hanced in my eyes when they chopped ba- 
nanas into it. Then came the funniest jum- 
ble of a dish which they call '^cosida/' It 
was brought in on a big platter, and, as 
nearly as I could guess, was a concoction of 



An American Girl in Mexico. 27 

boiled Irish potatoes chopped in small 
squares, beets, carrots, small pieces of meat, 
bits of roasting ear, cauliflower and peaches ! 
I tried to look pleased as I ate it, but I seri- 
ously doubt if I did. 'Tis needless to say the 
flavor was unusual. Then the plates were re- 
moved and roast beef served, every conceiva- 
ble cranny of it filled with raisins — raisins 
to right of it, raisins to left of it — and they 
ate this with such evident enjoyment, pick- 
ing out the raisins carefully on the ends of 
their forks, that it reminded me of little 
"Jack Horner" and his plum. I am fond 
of roast beef, and of raisins, but I confess 
I prefer them separate. 

Next came a salad, which was delicious. 
It was made of cold sliced tongue, chopped 
olives, celery and lettuce, with mayonnaise 
dressing. Then we had boiled roasting 
ears and aguacates — something which is 
a cross between a fruit and a nut, with flesh 
that is about the consistency of butter that 
has been on ice, but so impressed was I with 



28 An American Girl in Mexico. 

their resemblance in color to cuticura oint- 
ment that I never learned to eat them. 

After this we had cheese and macaroni, 
liberally sprinkled with red pepper. The 
inevitable ^^frijoW beans followed this 
course. 

They are served three times a day. This 
dish is to a Mexican what baked beans are to 
a Bostonian. These are first boiled ten- 
der, then poured into a stew pan of smok- 
ing lard ; when they have absorbed as much 
of the grease as possible, they are served. 

Fancy the effect this dish would have on 
the digestion three times a day for three 
hundred and sixty-five days, or a whole 
lifetime, I suppose, as I never saw a meal 
without them. 

The next course was a mixture, half ba- 
nanas, and half boiled sweet potatoes with 
whipped cream. Then came nuts and 
several kinds of wine. 

Closing my eyes I can see that table be- 
fore me now. The little boy trotting back 



An American Girl in Mexico. 29 

and forth with hot tortillas^ which if you 
don't eat will be a stack of ten or twelve by 
the end of the meal; the pigeons flutter- 
ing and cooing about us, and the soft chat- 
ter of that musical language, then so 
strange and unintelligible to me. 



30 An American Girl in Mexico. 



CHAPTER III. 

Mexico is well named "the land of the 
manana/' No matter what a person wants 
it is promised manana^ which means "to- 
morrow." If the laundry is sent it is in- 
variably with the assurance that it will be 
brought back manaiiw — ^and usually many 
mananas pass before it is brought back. 
Senora decided to have a new well dug, as 
the old one had been in use a hundred and 
forty years since the house was built for a 
bride long years in her grave. She sent for 
the well-digger, and when she asked him 
how long before he could have it ready, his 
prompt reply was manana. 

Another set expression is quien sahe and 
means "who knows?" This, with a Frenchy 



An American Girl in Mexico. 31 

little shrug of the shoulders, is the response 
to most questions put to peons, who, not 
caring to take the trouble of informing 
themselves on most subjects find this the 
easiest way to reply. It is told that an 
American who did not know the meaning 
of these two very useful phrases had heard 
manana frequently. One morning when 
out for a drive he asked the coachman a 
number of questions, chiefly concerning 
some business houses they were passing. 
The answer each time was, "Quien sahef' 
Presently a funeral procession passed and 
he asked "Whose funeral?" ^^Quien sahe'^ 
was the answer. "Thank heavens that old 
fellow is dead," he said. "I only wish old 
^manana' would follow him." 

^'Yuelvo en im momentito^^ (I return in 
one moment), the Mexican says, extending 
his hand with thumb and forefinger almost 
touching, to express how small a time ^^un 
momentiW is. 

With all their shrugs and gesticulations 



32 An American Girl in Mexico. 

the French cannot express half what the 
Mexicans do by their peculiar gestures. 
With mouth draAvn down at the corners, 
^ead to one side, hand extended on the 
other side, palm upward, they stamp the 
individual under consideration undeniably 
^^no hueno.'' A tightly clenched fist and 
squinted eyes convey the idea that he is 
^^7niiy apretadc/' (^ery stingy) ; a little 
clawing motion says plainly ^^He is a 
thief.'' Mexicans would be helpless with- 
out the expression ^^no es costunihre^' (it is 
not the custom). 

^^No es costmnhre/^ sl lady will tell you 
disdainfully, if you diverge a fraction from 
their most trivial social law— more binding 
than those of the Medes and Persians. 

^^No es costumhre^' is hurled at you by the 
meekest cook if instructed to pick up a pin 
aside from the duties designated when she 
was hired. 

One day on the plaza I saw an American^ 
in a spirit of fun, hand a little bootblack a 




TAKING A SUN BATH BEFORE THEIR PALM HUT. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 33 

big, awkward penny instead of the dainty 
silver five-cent piece due him. The big 
eyes filled with tears before he could enter 
protest with the inevitable ^'1:^0 es costum- 
hre, SenoVj, no es costumhre a pager menos 
que cinco centavos — una centavo nunca^ 
Senor; no es costumhre.^^ (It is not the 
custom to pay less than five cents — one 
cent never, Mister ; it is not the custom. ) 

These waifs are as precocious and amus- 
ing as our little Americans in the same sta- 
tion of life. There was one who never 
passed me on the plaza without smiling 
winningly and saying, "Shine, Mister?" in 
faultless, bootblack English. 

They have a way of calling a girl or boy 
who is the victim of an unrequited love a 
calahasa, which means "pumpkin." Also 
a person showing jealousy is a calahasa. 

Old maids go by the euphonious title of 
solteras, and young men are gallinos 
(young roosters). The dude, habitu§ of 
street corners in every land, is there called 



34 An American Girl in Mexico. 

''lagartijo'' (lizard), because he basks so 
lazily in the sunshine. But how much less 
disagreeable to be called a lagartijo than a 
dude. 

The girls wash their hair every other day 
in summer, and go into town with it stream- 
ing damp, down their backs like mermaids. 
I asked Concepcion one day if she was not 
ashamed to do this. "Ashamed?" she 
asked. "Why should I be ashamed? Every 
one knows I have to wash my hair." 
It may be a consequence of the frequent 
washing or the good airing, but they usually 
have lovely hair. 

On entering a store a Mexican girl shakes 
hands with every clerk, and if they have 
been there only two minutes they shake 
again on leaving. These shopping excur- 
sions are usually quite pleasant ^'visitasJ' 
The girls take their seats and chat freely 
for some time before their little hands reach 
over the counter for ^^adios'^ ; yet under no 
circumstances would a girl from a repre- 



An American Girl in Mexico. 35 

sentative family bow to a clerk on the 
plazas. Why they are at liberty to chat so 
openly in the stores together I do not know, 
unless for practice in conversation. 

Shopping is a delight in Mexico. There 
is a certain amount of pleasure to be derived 
from such expeditions in the most remote 
village. What though you can't find every- 
thing! There are dainty, lovely ^Hiras hor- 
dades^' (embroideries) and ^Hereto peW 
(velvet) in every shop, and clerks so glad to 
haul down endless stacks of things, smiling 
and flattering you delightfully all the while. 
The silks and laces from France are a joy 
to the heart feminine, in their snowy 
masses and intricate beautiful weaves. 
Such cobweb patterns are not to be found 
on this side of the Rio Grande. The stores 
keep a very limited supply of shoes {^^zapa- 
tos'') in larger sizes, for their feet are char- 
acteristically tiny, and a clerk will try un- 
hesitatingly to crowd a number four foot 
into a number two shoe, assuring you it will 



36 An American Girl in Mexico 

soon stretch and be too large, and seem 
surprised if they cannot convince you. I 
spent hours shopping for my ^'^apatos'' for, 
unfortunately, I did not number among 
those who could wear a Mexican size, and 
there is nothing Chinese about my idea as 
to how a shoe should fit. 

Their millinery is lovely, but no one less 
wealthy than a Kothschild would fail to 
frown at the fabulous prices they ask for 
the dainty, perishable creations they offer. 
^^Flores, fores'' but the nominal figure at 
which flowers can be bought in the streets 
has nothing to do with the ridiculously high 
prices of the ^'fores'' in a millinery estab- 
lishment. Hats are a novelty to them yet. 
It has been such a little time since they 
knew no head wear but the graceful man- 
tilla. 

One day when the ways and the language 
of the Mexicans was very, very new to me, 
I went into La Predilecta (The Favorite) 
to buy a hat. I was full of confidence, and 



An American Girl in Mexico. 37 

it never occurred to me that every necessary 
word was not at my command. But I was 
helpless when I tried to ask for a winter 
hat. Where was that word for "winter"? 

"Sombrero?'^ (hat) I asked, timidly. 

"Si, si,'^ ("yes, yes"), the obsequious 
clerk answered, and before I had time to 
remonstrate, pulled down box after box of 
summer hats. 

"No, no," I objected, "otros sombreros" 
(other hats). Then he pulled down still 
more of the gay, beflowered ones. I looked 
helplessly from side to side for some aid in 
my dilemma. Pointing to a piece of wool 
goods I asked : 

"Que es esta?" (what is this?) "Lano" 
(wool), was the answer. "Sombrero lano?" 
(wool hat) I asked. The clerk tried to hide 
his mirthful face by stooping under the 
counter a moment. When he raised himself 
up he shook his head slowly. "Este?" 
(This?) I asked, pointing to a piece of silk. 
"Sedo" (silk), he answered, promptly. 



38 An American Girl in Mexico. 

"Sombrero sedo?" I asked, still more hesi- 
tatingly. Again he darted down under the 
counter, this time for a much longer stay, 
and the smile was not all gone when he 
emerged this time. "Sombrero por el frio?" 
(hat for the cold), I asked, desperately, but 
he only laughed more and declared that they 
had no cold there, so I went home and con- 
tinued to wear my summer hat. As the sea- 
sons are not marked they wear summer 
and winter hats interchangeably. 

A clerk bolts over the counter in leap- 
frog fashion if there is anything in the 
show cases you wish to see. At the end of 
a visit he will often give a regalo to the 
customer, which is not often anything more 
valuable than a cheap little fan, or, perhaps, 
a bunch of tangled baby ribbon ; but they be- 
stow it as if it were a string of pearls. Their 
stores are all named ; also their cantinas 
or saloons. One I saw was called 
"The Triumph of the Devil." A drug 
store bore the name "The Gate to 



An American Girl in Mexico. 39 

Heaven." No girl takes a position as 
clerk in Mexico. Even the people at the 
telephone stations are men. I learned that 
^^anilW means ring ; so when I tried to call 
for 600-2 rings, I said "600 dos anillas/' At 
my repeated call the central grew annoyed 
and hung up the receiver. I afterward 
learned that anilla means only a ring for the 
finger, and llamada means the ring of a 
telephone. 

The way things were delivered always 
struck me as so ridiculous. A man would 
come down the narrow little street with a 
basket on his back, and Luz would hail him 
and run out to buy her vegetables for the 
day. Frequently I have seen her purchase 
one potato, or a half tomato, and the man 
seemed to think it all right; everybody did, 
but it would always occur to me how ridicu- 
lous an American would seem buying half 
a tomato. Even wood they buy by the 
armload, and I have seen a man stagger- 
ing under the weight of a sideboard or iron 



40 An American Girl in Mexico. 

bed, for they have no moving vans. They 
even bring trunks from the station on their 
backs. My mirth knew no bounds when 
one day a man came leading a goat through 
the front hall and out to the kitchen. 
^' Quant of he asked, and Luz replied, "Diez 
centavos/^ When he had milked a measure 
full she paid her dime, and he led his goat 
on to the next house. 

A housekeeper trusts her cook to do all 
the buying for the kitchen. It is beneath 
a lady of quality to be seen marketing, so 
the cook is every day furnished with small 
change for this, and I really doubt if their 
wages are so meagre after all, for the poor 
are not exceedingly scrupulous. It is easier 
to obtain forgiveness than tortillas. 

No supplies are kept on hand. Pedro 
would have to run down tO' the corner to 
buy a cornucopia of lard or flour before 
each meal. No housekeeper is so reckless 
as to keep even these staples on hand, with 
so many nimble fingers about. One of Luz' 



An American Girl in Mexico. 41 

most eloquent memories was lier trip to San 
Antonio, Texas, where she spent one sum- 
mer cooking in a hospital at twelve dollars 
a month. She never tired of telling about 
it, and her eyes would grow big at the re- 
membrance, when she would clasp her fat 
brown hands and say ^'^Muclio diner o por 
Luz — mucho dineroJ' (Much money for 
Luz.) 

She was called home from this Elysian 
field by an invalid husband, who had be- 
come so ill that, one day she announced 
to the Senora that she must stay at home 
with him until he died; adding that he 
didn't seem to be going to die soon either. 

The first day of her absence there was 
consternation in the household, for a cook 
couldn't be found. At luncheon hour I of- 
fered, in my best Spanish, to help. Not one 
of them knew a thing about cooking, and I 
smiled to myself, thinking how they would 
enjoy my broiled steak, for back in sensible 
Texas I had attended a practical cooking 



42 An American Girl in Mexico. 

school that was held in my mother's kitchen 
every day. I made delicious milk toast, 
creamed some potatoes, and cooked 
squashes. They thought the word squash, 
which it was impossible for them to 
pronounce, as funny as I found ^^ropa viejo^' 
(old clothes), a name they give to a sort of 
meat pie, a very popular dish, made from 
scraps of cold meat and smothered in 
herbs. They thought my skill quite wonder- 
ful, particularly the Seiiora, who had mar- 
ried at thirteen, and had as little culinary 
knowledge now as then. But they could 
not enjoy steak cooked without herbs. The 
Senora, determined not to wound my feel- 
ings, took a liberal piece, and, cutting it in 
bits, poured vinegar over it. And I had ex- 
pected those poor starved creatures to fall 
on my delicately broiled steak like hungry 
wolves. 

At dinner time a new cook, innocent of 
the benefits of a comb and a bath, took 




THE "AQUAFRESCA" MAN. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 43 

charge; but we were glad indeed when Luz 
returned in a few days. She came one 
morning to get four dollars to go into 
mourning, for her husband had at last died ; 
her usually round face looked long as she 
told us of the event. That evening she re- 
turned, dressed in a cheap black print which 
she had bought already made, on the market, 
and Pedro had a piece of cheap crepe on his 
hat. In less than a week I heard the old 
loud happy laugh of Luz, and going out in 
astonishment, found her teasing Josef, the 
yardman, telling him that he would be the 
new husband of Luz. 

The day of her husband's death she had 
much regretted that she was too poor to 
have funeral notices, but this was now for- 
gotten. Their funeral notices are almost as 
large as a small newspaper, as are their 
wedding invitations, which are engraved on 
a large double sheet of ragged edged linen 
paper. On the inside, to the left, the 
groom's family requests your presence; on 



44 An American Girl in Mexico. 

the right, the bride's family extend their 
invitation. 

On New Year's day they send out engrav- 
ed cards wishing their friends a happy and 
prosperous year ; a family always mails an- 
nouncement cards at the birth of a child. 
When it is a month old friends call and scat- 
ter confetti over the baby's cradle. Confetti 
is bright bits of paper in sacks. I never 
learned the significance of this custom. 

Ladies embrace on meeting and kiss on 
either cheek. Men embrace and pat each 
other on the back affectionately. 

Certain amusements appeal forcibly to 
the Mexicans. A circus may with impunity 
camp in a town for weeks, sure that the tent 
will be crowded every night. However, the 
circuses there are superior to anything we 
have in Los Estados Unidos. The great Or- 
rin circus is always a drawing card. 
Everybody goes. Fathers do not use their 
children for excuses, as Americans do, but 
go eagerly night after night. With as much 



An American Girl in Mexico. 45 

time as polish they can thus spend hours 
very agreeably. Stores are always closed 
fully two. hours for dinner, and, half dozing 
through the sleepy afternoon the affable 
clerks are most indifferent to sales. Above 
all else the theatres there have one inimita- 
ble charm — the graceful serpentine play of 
a shawl in the hands of some dark-eyed Se- 
iiorita — her silken rehozo woven in shades 
seldom seen save in a brilliant sunset — a 
beautiful careless mingling of hues that har- 
monize in their very dissimilarity. 

There is a quaint little dance called 
^^Danza de sombrero/' among ^^los pohres/' 
that is most alluring. The sombrero or hat 
is placed on the floor, and a girl and boy 
dance around it, in and out^ — darting near — 
gliding away — their supple bodies swaying 
as if by a breeze, as they snap their fingers 
close to the sombrero and smile charmingly, 
tauntingly at each other. 'Tis a beautiful, 
typical dance, without any seeming signifi- 
cance — the girl in her short bright skirt, 



46 An American Girl in Mexico. 

buckled slippers, and bare brown arms — the 
boy in blouse, long trousers, and brilliant 
sash. 

What a place of interest a Mexican mar- 
ket is ! I went down often and elbowed my 
way through its throngs. One always sees 
lots of Americans there shopping, with 
big market baskets hung independently on 
their arms. Such a conglomeration of toys 
— beautiful pottery that costs almost noth- 
ing — kitchen utensils, household things, 
clothes, trinkets — candy made of goat milk 
and sugar, hats, canes and every imaginable 
and unimaginable article — ^a heterogeneous 
collection of the useful and useless. The 
air is intoxicatingly sweet with the per- 
fume of flowers and fruits. For a few cen- 
tavos a small boy can gorge to the utmost 
limit. All the lower class wear sandals, and 
they gather in hordes to bargain for these. 
Trousers are sold here all the way from 
seventy-five cents to seventy-five dollars per 
pair. The lower class or peons^ wear such 



An American Girl in Mexico, 47 

odd looking trousers — bright-hued, and as 
tight as a new kid glove, a size smaller than 
usual. These they fasten up the sides with 
colored laces. Of course the upper class 
buy their wearing apparel from the 
shops, patronizing the markets only for 
edibles. Little piles of potatoes, pot- 
tery, hay, English peas and various other 
things obstruct the way — and the venders, 
sitting patiently beside them with babies ga- 
lore tumbling over them and scattering the 
wares, pull at your skirts as you pass and 
beg you to buy. The first price is always 
startling, but they will often drop to a tenth 
of the original. It is amusing to hear 
them fall and fall in price and at last, with 
a coaxing toss of the head, inquire what you 
will give, sometimes even running after you 
for a block urging you to buy, and laughing 
good naturedly if you do not. 

A temptation I could never resist was to 
stroll from stall to stall conversing with the 
keepers. They are so simple, they would 



48 An American Girl in Mexico. 

tell of their joys and sorrows, their babies 
and their ambitions, which were interesting, 
if no loftier than to own a hurro, for the 
study of human nature is always interest- 
ing. One old, wrinkled woman always sat 
with her rooster under her arm, unless he 
were fighting; she became one of my stanch- 
est friends. She did not hesitate to tell me 
that she stole the rooster, "he was such a 
good fighter," was her excuse, and then she 
was ^^mup pobre/' She would hold the little 
game fowl up proudly each time for my in- 
spection, as if it had been a baby, instead of 
a little game gallo. 

A girl had a stall where she sold only lit- 
tle red and blue pig banks, and remembered 
me always with such a bright smile, that I 
almost became bankrupt buying her little 
pigs. There are few of my friends in the 
United States who have not a pig bank. 
Still another vender always slipped a packet 
of cigarettes into my basket, and refused 



An American Girl in Mexico. 49 

pay. A few friendly speeches and smiles 
had won these lowly admirers. 

Small-pox is a great bugbear among 
Americans as a draw-back to Mexico, but 
there is really slight danger from this dis- 
ease. It rages among the slums ; their dirty 
hovels and unhygienic mode of existence in- 
vite disease, but the death rate from small- 
pox and other maladies is not great among 
cleanly people. The peons seem to have little 
dread of it and I think regard the pits it 
leaves as rather ornamental. Frequently 
on the street cars one sees a person all brok- 
en out, and here lies the danger. Becoming 
familiar with the symptoms of the disease a 
person can avoid contact with one of these 
victims, and need feel no distress of mind 
thereafter. Another strange thing that fre- 
quently takes place on the street cars. A 
man will take out his cigarette case, and 
turning toward the ladies on the car offers 
every one a cigarette, particularly if there 
are any American ladies present. 



50 An American Girl in Mexico. 

Often I have passed a woman with her 
whole nut brown family lined up on the 
banks of a little stream — unclothed — while 
she did the weekly or yearly washing. 

One day I yielded to the entreaties of the 
family and went to a bull fight. I shall 
never quite forgive myself for doing so, 
though I did not then realize how horrible a 
Mexican bull fight can be. I am not 
ashamed that before it was over I came so 
near fainting they had to sprinkle me with 
lemonade, the only available liquid, and 
take me home. I cannot understand how a 
human being can sit through it, though I 
stayed long enough to see six bulls and nine 
bleeding blindfolded horses tortured to 
death. A magnificent bull comes charging 
in, infuriated by the stinging arrow he re- 
ceived as he passed under the entrance arch. 
He vents his fury upon the first object he 
spies, and when one knows that this is a 
poor blindfolded horse, a fraction of the 
cruelty can be realized. The rider pierces 



An American Girl in Mexico. 51 

tlie bulPs neck with numberless sharp ar- 
rows, and as the horse falls, makes his es- 
cape amid the triumphant yells of the im- 
mense audience. Sometimes even the little 
rider meets his death and becomes a hero 
in the eyes of all present — but a dead hero. 

It is all a kind of indistinct horror to me. 
And yet, when I told Senor Carlos that it 
was more cowardice than bravery that en- 
abled one to sit through it, he laughed and 
called me "^Po5r6ci^a^^ ( poor little girl, ) and 
said it was not half so cruel as prize fight- 
ing, which was between human beings. 

"Ah, it is grand when you learn to under- 
stand it," he said. And a person to hear 
their shouts of exultation w^ould imagine 
something of the grandeur of the Passion 
Play was being presented. 



52 An American Girl in Mexico. 



CHAPTEK IV. 

A "swell" wedding took place just before 
Lent, and I was invited with the family. It 
was the marriage of a beautiful girl, typi- 
cally Spanish, and we went early that none 
of the spectacle might be lost. It was a long 
and impressive ceremony, and the cathedral 
was like a flower garden. I blushed for 
shame at the conduct of some American 
tourists, who, having gained access to the 
church, had possessed themselves of some of 
the best pews, and when the bridal party 
entered, the bride with bowed head walking 
slowly to the font of holy water, her glim- 
mering satin train trailing after her, these 
Americans deliberately stood up in their 
seats, and the snap, snap of their obtrusive 
kodaks broke the sacred silence. 




A 



\ 



■^ %' 



"v 






I 



An American Girl in Mexico. 53 

Next to the Briton in egotism comes the 
American, and because they consider them- 
selve essentially pace setters and privileged 
beings, they disregard many of the customs 
that Mexicans hold inviolate — customs that 
we might recognize without detracting from 
our self-respect or convenience. Fre- 
quently troubles arise from this cause that 
require diplomatic intervention. 

After crossing herself and kneeling for a 
blessing, the stately bride walked the length 
of the cathedral alone on one side, under the 
arches of ferns and lilies, and the groom on 
the other. Meeting at the altar they knelt 
on satin pillows, — the organ burst forth in 
soft music, and when the priest had blessed 
them, he pinned a piece of white ribbon 
on her shoulder, and crossed it over to 
her fiance, thus uniting them; at the same 
time drawing a fold of her gauzy veil 
about the bridegroom. A lengthy ceremony 
in Latin followed, to the accompaniment of 
music. The ribbon was unpinned, a prayer 



54 An American Girl in Mexico. 

offered, and the happy pair marched out to 
the strains of Mendelssohn's Wedding 
March, — out and down the long stone walk 
and rolled away in one of the gay carriages 
to which were harnessed milk white horses 
with white ribbon reins and beflowered 
bridles. 

The first point is always the photog- 
rapher's studio, where pictures are made of 
them in some adoring attitude. All wed- 
dings take place in the early morning, 
and a bride is never married in any- 
thing but white. The day is spent in gay- 
ety, the night in a grand ball, and, the next 
morning, after the civil ceremony has con- 
summated the marriage, they leave — leave, 
to learn whether or not they love each other. 
Alas, that so often it should be a rude 
awakening — a falling short of expectations, 
for neither knows a thing of the other's 
thoughts and ways. What if in the harsh 
morning light the Tsdfe has lost the halo of 
enchantment that hung over the face be- 



An American Girl in Mexico. 55 

hind the iron-barred window. Ah, then 'tis 
the same old story, and yet they will not be- 
lieve there is any system of love-making 
better than theirs that to us seems so un- 
real and so like child's play, but to them is 
as sacred as their religion. And yet before 
marriage one does not see among them the 
inconstancy that we find among matter-of- 
fact Americans. 

A girl has one lover, nor dares to smile 
on another. Not more than one man pays 
court to a girl at once. In her little heart 
she is as trufe as steel. To Kosita, dark, de- 
mure Eosita of our household, had come a 
note of strange music — ^had struck a shaft of 
rosy light, but 'twas over now, its only 
footprint being an added wistfulness to the 
big eyes — for some whispered words against 
her lover had changed her dreams, and now 
her evenings are often dreary. 'Tis a land 
of dreams, and why not, when one can sit 
in the soft sunlight and float away in fancy 
upon the depth on depth of blue above. 



56 An American Girl in Mexico. 

One Spaniard told me he spent a year in 
Detroit, where he made many American 
friends, but never grew accustomed to the 
"abominable liberty" of our girls. 

"It may not be the custom where your 
home is, Senorita," he told me, "but I have 
seen girls there from the very best families 
go out to the theatres with a young man 
alone, not a member of her family with 
her!" I assured him that I had seen such 
things myself. 

"To us this robs them of all their charm," 
he said. "I w^as so happy to return to 
Aguas Calientes, and once more see my 
sweetheart's face in the window^, like an an- 
gel's." His face softened at the recollec- 
tion. Eeaching in his pocket he drew a 
daintily penned letter out and handing it to 
me, said : "From my dulce carazon — I got 
it to-day." 

Some one has said that people who do not 
know Spanish are unable to express but 
half their love, and truly there is a caress in 



An American Girl in Mexico. 57 

eyery word of that soft language. I read 
the adoring little letter to its close, where 
she said : "The angelitas^^ send their love. 

"Who are the angelitasr^ I asked in won- 
der. 

"Her little ones," he answered. 

"But you — you are not married?" I 
asked. 

"No, no, but she is married to a man she 
doesn't love — she loves me — she has loved 
me two years," and his handsome face 
showed no sign of shame nor confusion at 
the confession. 

It is really a tedious matter to become 
married in Mexico, with the several cere- 
monies. One interesting feature is that the 
bridegroom furnishes the trousseau. It 
seems hardly fair, for the poor man has 
enough of that ahead of him, and as the 
father naturally supposes it is about the last 
rifling his daughter can give his pocket, he 
doesn't mind much, but the Mexicans think 
differently, and think it well to prepare the 



58 An American Girl in Mexico. 

husband. He sends a check for whatever 
amount he feels able to give, and she is in 
honor bound not to use her father's money. 
It must be rather an embarrassing matter 
for the bridegroom to decide just how much 
to send. I knew one girl, a member of a 
wealthy family, who married a poor man, 
and when the check came it was a question 
how she would be able to get her clothes 
with the amount. I really fear that I 
should have been tempted to let my father 
add a little, but she bought an inexpensive 
wedding dress and simple outfit, thus prov- 
ing herself very sweet and womanly. 

Not infrequently daughters and sons will 
remain after marriage under the parental 
roof rather than endure the anguish of 
breaking these ties; if a son establishes a 
home of his own no day is ever too short to 
admit of his making a little visita to his 
mother. The trenchant sword of jealousy 
strikes at a mother's heart when she feels 
that the new daughter is supplanting her 




PLAYING THE BEAR. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 59 

in tlie son's affections. A wife in Mexico is 
supposed — however young she assumes such 
responsibilities — to have as good judgment 
as her husband, and is never subjected to 
the humiliation of begging a pittance daily 
for her household needs. A woman of caste 
there could not be self-sustaining and self- 
respecting. When a man marries he cheer- 
fully accepts the support of a widowed 
mother or sister, never considering their 
accomplishments that might be turned to 
account. 

While on the subject of marriages I must 
tell all about their courtships, for that of 
M'iles Standish was no stranger. I feel par- 
ticularly well versed on this subject, as I 
had a love affair of my own, if such it may 
be called. One day I noticed whispering 
among the Senora and the girls, and, as it 
seemed such a good natured whispering, I 
begged to know what it was about. Final- 
ly dear Senora said "Let's tell her," so they 
consented, and on account of my limited 



6o An American Girl in Mexico. 

knowledge of the language it took all three 
to explain that Senor Don Eduardo was in 
love with me, and it would have taken three 
more to make me believe it. 

"Who is Senor Don Eduardo?" I asked, 
"and how do you know that he is in love 
with me?" They told me he was the dark 
young man we had noticed passing and re- 
passing the house every day. 

"If a young man passes a house several 
times a day he's in love with some one in 
it," they said. 

"But why not with one of you?" I en- 
quired, looking admiringly into their faces, 
for both were unusually pretty girls, though 
I believe I loved Concepcion a little the bet- 
ter. 

"Oh, no," they protested, "we have been 
here all our lives and have always known 
Seiior Don Eduardo, and he has never done 
this before." They were unwilling to have 
their romance spoiled. So they told me to 
walk up and down before the window when 



An American Girl in Mexico. 6i 

he came, but on no account speak to him. 
This I obediently did, morning and evening, 
and Senor Don Eduardo would smile on me 
most adoringly. There was such novelty in 
the experience that I played my part quite 
commendably — at any rate, after three 
weeks the girls declared they had a sec- 
veto. I w^heedled them until they told me 
that the Senor was going to send the band 
to serenade mie at midnight, and if I ap- 
plauded the music it would be an indication 
that I accepted his suit. It was really 
unfair to him for me to be told, they said, 
for I sTiould have been awakened by the 
strains of music, but I eased their con- 
sciences by advising them that if they had 
not told me I would more than likely have 
slept throughout the serenade. 

At the first stroke of twelve the band be- 
gan, just under the window, playing "To 
Thee" — a beautiful love song — then, "La- 
grimas cle Amor' ("Tears of Love,") and 
others equally tender and pleading; at the 



62 An American Girl in Mexico. 

close I applauded. I could see Seuor Don 
Eduardo listening, hat in hand, in the dis- 
tant moonlight. To me the whole thing 
was a little drama that I had thoughtlessly 
gone into. Even my applause was almost 
innocent. For several mornings and even- 
ings after this he paraded before my win- 
dow, whispering such extravagant terms of 
endearments as ^^Angelita/' ^^Divina^' and 
^^Piimerosa/^ until it is a wonder I didn't 
lose my head, and become, Spanish-like, a 
devotee to the mirror. 

Then one day there came a noisy rap at the 
door, and Senor Don Eduardo's card was 
brought in. When I peeped through the 
bars I saw his silver mounted victoria in 
waiting, with his monogram emblazoned on 
the side. The girls were almost speechless 
with delight. They regarded themselves in 
the happy light of matchmakers, and flut- 
tered about me making suggestions and try- 
ing to rush me off to array myself in my gay- 
est attire, Kosita in her excitement even 



An American Girl in Mexico. 63 

pulling out her favorite of my dresses — a 
pink flowered silk, and trying to hurry me 
into it. They told me that this would be an 
announcement of my acceptance of Sefior 
Don Eduardo, when people saw me driving 
in his victoria about the Alameda. Then I 
declined to go further. If I felt any hesita- 
tion in going alone, their mother or his 
mother could go with me, they persisted. 
His mother had called, and I found her a 
peculiar, undemonstrative woman, though 
she had invited me to her home, and seemed 
desirous of making a good impression. But 
I was not going for a drive in Eduardo's 
carriage, because matters had now assumed 
a more serious aspect than I liked. 

So ended my affair with Senor Don 
Eduardo — ^at least the pleasant side of it, 
for he acted very ugly indeed after this. He 
would stand with a leer on his dark face as I 
passed, and even dared on several occasions 
to hiss at me — such a hateful hiss that it 
could never be confounded with the tender 



64 An American Girl in Mexico. 

^^Angelita" or ^^Divina^- of a few weeks be- 
fore. Senor Don Eduardo's pride had sus- 
tained a blow. He told Senor Carlos that 
his intention had been to marry the "Ameri- 
can Senorita" in four months if she had not 
turned out a ^^coquetta,'' When Carlos re- 
peated that accusation his voice had an an- 
gry ring, and he seemed much surprised that 
I could laugh. I didn't know then that to 
be called a ^^coquetta'' in Mexico is much 
more offensive than in our country. A very 
handsome man at a ball one evening was 
promptly refused a dance by Rosita. When 
at home a few hours later I asked her why 
this was, she told me he had two sisters who 
were coquettas, and this being the case, 
why should he be accepted in ^^sociedadf 

One night, as I sat in the window dream- 
ing of home, something was dropped into my 
lap through the bars, and looking up quick- 
ly I saw Senor Don Eduardo disappearing 
down the silent street. I picked up his 
regalo. It was a long gray card, and in 



An American Girl in Mexico. 65 

the upper left-hand corner was a tiny Ameri- 
can flag, with streamers of the blessed na- 
tional red, white and blue. A girlish figure, 
tall and lithe, occupied the space, a typical 
American girl dressed in a walking skirt, 
shirt waist and heavy shoes; attire that is 
hateful to every Mexican, for in their eyes 
a woman is only half a woman when she lays 
aside pretty feminine fripperies and fol- 
lies. This girl wore no hat, had sunny 
brown hair blowing about her face, and a 
carefree laugh on her lips. On her breast, 
in bold relief, was a tiny black heart. It 
seemed a little incongruous that such a 
pretty girl should have a black heart. In 
one hand she carried a dagger with a crim- 
son one on its point, and over one shoulder 
was a string of hearts ; her path was strewn 
with them, on which she ruthlessly trod, 
her head tossed high, watching the one 
on her dagger's point — the latest vic- 
tim, I supposed. The whole was rather 
startling; her trim blue skirt, white waist 



66 An American Girl in Mexico. 

and crimson tie, truly patriotic, and 
the crimson hearts about her for which 
her laughing eyes showed no concern, and 
the black, black heart on her breast. It 
needed no word ^'coquetta'' beneath it to 
show its import. Perhaps I should be 
ashamed, but I really prized it very much; 
'twas most flattering, and certainly dis- 
played artistic talent — which most Mexicans 
have. 

An American boy friend told me a joke on 
himself. He became much enamored of the 
face of a Senorita as he passed her window 
daily and determined to revolutionize their 
"slow" methods. So, one day, he boldly 
pounder*, with the brass knocker at her 
front door, and was ushered into the parlor 
and her presence. She blushed prettily, 
and, bowing low, left the room. In a mo- 
ment she returned with her father and 
mother. For a few minutes conversation 
lagged, then the mother took matters into 
her own hands and asked him what his 



An American Girl in Mexico. 67 

intentions were regarding her daughter. 
He stammered out that he had none as 
yet, and, as he expressed it, ^^picked him- 
self up out of the street a little later, won- 
dering how he got there." Never afterward 
did he entertain any sentiment for a Mexi- 
can Senorita, nor worry over their lack of 
progressiveness. 

A standing joke with Senor Carlos, who 
was particularly dark, with languid black 
eyes, was, that he was his mother's only 
blond child, and therefore her favorite. In 
their eyes, if a person's skin is fair, all other 
defects are obliterated, for only the most 
purely Castilian type escapes the dark olive 
tint, and even these have a creamy pallor 
to their complexion that is distinctly 
foreign. They thought me dazzlingiy fair, 
though I had always lamented my brunette 
coloring. I remember the first time I went 
to a ball, when Trinidad had fastened the 
last hook of my dainty white gown, she 
clasped her hands with delight, and ran 



68 An American GIri in Mexico. 

away to summon the family. They all went 
into raptures over my "snowy" neck and 
arms, which I had been powdering freely 
to make whiter. Luz declared I was 
a spirit, and, slipping up behind me, timidly 
kissed my neck. Fair of face, fair of 
lineage with them, for as the aristocrats are 
many shades whiter than the ^^peons/' a 
fair complexion is, with them, an unfailing 
evidence of blue blood. They really admire 
Americans, though they feel a little jealousy 
toward us for the way we are entering their 
country and taking possession of their 
rights. They pretend to dislike our lan- 
guage, and one Spaniard told me there 
was but one word of the English language 
that he liked, this he used often, the word 
"indeed." 

Though one may be willing to credit them 
with an inimitably pretty language, he is 
not willing to admit that there is but one 
word in English to be admired. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 69 



CHAPTER, V. 

Carlos told me of his love for Elisa, and 
Ills eyes glowed with tenderness as he talked. 
He had once "played the bear/' as Ameri- 
cans have termed their parading before a. 
window, to a high class girl, but she was 
too cold and unresponsive, he told me. 

"How do you know this when you are 
never allowed to talk to her?" I inquired. 

"Oh, but her eyes were never full of love 
like Elisa's are," he explained. 

His romantic love for Elisa was a source 
of great distress to his family, for the girl 
was beneath them in caste, which is most 
defined there. They called her a ^^tortil- 
lera'' (tortilla maker), which, of course, 
she was not, and his eyes would fill with 



70 An American Girl in Mexico. 

tears as he said ^^Pohrecita," He felt no 
resentment, only pity for his poor little 
girl that he thought he loved so well. His 
sisters begged me to talk to him and try to 
persuade him to go back to Anita, who 
loved him yet, "for we will never receive 
this Elisa — she cannot go in sociedad even 
though she is the wife of Carlos," they de- 
clared. 

I asked him why he did not return to 
Anita, for his family's sake, and her own. 
He shook his head. 

"I cannot be the lover of both Elisa and 
Anita," he said, "and I cannot give Elisa 
up. If they did not live on the same 

street " and he finished with a gloomy 

shake of his head. 

^'Ojos hermosos'' (beautiful eyes), he 
would murmur softly as he thought of Elisa, 
a faraway look in his own. "They shall 
accept her," he declared. "I will take her 
on my arm, pobrecitay and I will walk 
through that casino, and I will dance every 



An American Girl in Mexico. 71 

dance with her when she is my little wife, 
and you think they will dare not to receive 
the wife of Carlos?" 

One morning I was in the family pew at 
the Cathedral listening to the "choir invisi- 
ble/' when Senor Carlos slipped in beside 
me. I looked up in surprise, for he was 
not religiously inclined. Often a candle 
burned all day at home before one of the 
statues of the Virgin Mary, for his sake; 
his mother worried no little over her 
son's indifference to the religion of his fore- 
fathers; so my astonishment w^as natural. 
Still more surprised was I when he began 
to tell me how much he loved me. "Tit- 
tienes mucha mas intelligencia y mas dig- 
nidad que las mucJiachas MexicanaSy to- 
das de las muchaehas Americanas tienenJ' 
("Thou hast much more intellect and more 
dignity than Mexican girls — ^all American 
girls have.'') 

"Then," I said, "do you tell me this, Senor 
Carlos, after I have heard you talk of Elisa 



72 An American Girl in Mexico. 

so often? And in the cathedral ! I am dis- 
appointed in you, miserably disappointed." 

I laid my hand on his arm, and, looking 
straight at him, said : "Let's forget you have 
ever said this — that you have ever for a, 
moment been untrue to Elisa, whose heart 
you have won. Continue to be my brother, 
Carlos, and I shall be happy — poor little 
Elisa !" Just a moment . of surprise then 
Senor Carlos shook hands with me warmly 
and said in his pretty tongue: 

"I thank you, Seiiorita. I will be true to 
my little girl. I thought I loved you, but I 
am your brother, am I not? And you — ^you 
shall be my bridesmaid when I marry Elisa 
— now that you know that I love her you 
TNdll not try to send me back to Anita, will 
you?" And with one of his radiant smiles 
he was gone. Is it any wonder that they 
are an anomaly as a race? Some harsh 
critic described the country as "A land 
whose flowers have no perfume — men no 
honor and women no virtue." I think his 




MY INNOCENT MAID — TRINIDAD. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 73 

epitome entirely too severe, though. 'Tls 
a country with many superior charms that 
cannot but be felt by the mere tourist. 

From that time on Seiior Carlos never for 
a moment fancied any display of sentiment 
due me, and never forgot the brotherly atti- 
tude we had agreed upon. 

The ^^peons^^ have a happier, freer time 
than the aristocrats. They are decidedly 
bohemian. It was one of my favorite pas- 
times to sit on the sunshiny plaza near a 
tanca, on which sat a pair of plebeian lov- 
ers, and hear their pretty love-making. I 
felt no more compunction of conscience for 
this than for listening near a confessional. 
They always reminded me of a pair of mod- 
est, happy doves; their love is as sweet as 
their music. ^^Tu no me amas'^ (Thou dost 
not love me) I would hear the probable Con- 
chita murmur, and then his tender assur- 
ance to the contrary. There they would sit 
in happy oblivion of all about them, with no 
thought but of the perfect present, no anx- 



74 An American Girl in Mexico. 

iety over the proximit}^ of the ^^ Americano/^ 
The higher class laugh merrily about the 
plebeians and their love affairs, never real- 
izing that they themselves are missing the 
best of life, that "The light of the whole 
world dies when love is done," and love is 
usually done there before it has hardly be- 
gun. 

My first ball I enjoyed supremely. We all 
went, the Senora and her three daughters, 
for she insisted that I, too, was her daugh- 
ter. Carlos never went. He had quit at- 
tending balls since Elisa had come into his 
life, because he knew that she would not be 
welcomed at the Casino, and he did not 
care to go where he could not look into 
those beloved dark eyes. On this occasion 
I was the only American in the house. At 
the midnight supper a gay bachelor arose, 
and, bowing low, handed me a bouquet of La 
France roses, saying in perfect English "Se- 
norita, I love you. Senorita, you make me 
tired." Undignified as it was to do so, I 



An American Girl in Mexico. 75 

shrieked with laughter, and tried to explain 
his mistake to him. The poor fellow had 
thought he was paying me a great compli- 
ment in chance English he had picked up. 
Several toasts were drunk to the ^^Ameri- 
cano/' until I indeed felt that "It is better to 
be an American than to be a King." This 
though had been the uppermost feeling with 
me since I came from my Texan home into 
this strange land. 

By the beginning of Lent I began to con- 
sider myself fairly versatile in Spanish. 
Eesidence in a, family that speaks nothing 
but that language is the best way to learn it. 

The Lenten season was one of absorbing 
interest. The streets were thronged daily 
with people going to and from church, and I 
loved to slip into the great cool Cathedral 
and take my seat close to a confessional 
where I would listen to a recital of their 
multifarious transgressions. One day Con- 
cepcion came out of her room dressed all in 
black — even her face draped, carrying a 



76 An American Girl in Mexico. 

rosary, looking very sweet and demure, and 
made the announcement that she was going 
to confess her sins. 

"What sins?'^ I asked, wondering what 
that sweet dark-eyed girl had to confess. 

"Oh, my many sins ; criticising my friends 
and loving pretty clothes too well, and some- 
times — sometimes speaking crossly to my 
Mamacita/' and kissing Mamacita's hand 
she was gone. This is a pet name with 
them for mamma. 

There is one day of Lent that every per- 
son must wear black. It looks strange to 
see the hundreds of hurrying black figures 
in the streets. I saw a mother with a little 
child, a baby girl not more than two years 
old, kneeling before the Virgin Mary in the 
Cathedral, its little hands clasped, learn- 
ing to lisp a prayer. I could no longer feel 
surprised that the entire nation is Catholic, 
when it is instilled into them from the 
cradle to the grave. The week before East- 
er is more full of interest than any other 



An American Girl in Mexico. ^'j 

time. On the day before Easter Judas Is- 
cariot is burned in effigy on every street 
corner and in every home that is able to pro- 
vide one. He is made of papier mache 
filled with explosives, and can be bought any 
size at the market for less than thirty pieces 
of silver. A particularly spiritual-minded 
household will have a life-sized Judas. In 
the streets the ^^peons'' assemble with a huge 
one that their carefully hoarded pennies 
have purchased, and frequently they will 
also have a Mrs. Judas, dressed gaily in pink 
tissue paper. These they suspend high in the 
air, touch them off and shriek with deri- 
sion at their contortions. The reports all 
day are deafening^ and it seems to be a day 
of supreme pleasure among all classes. The 
family where I boarded were very quiet with 
their Judas bonfire, and I saw nothing of 
him, unless he was inside a long, peculiar 
shaped parcel that I saw Senor Carlos bring 
in one day. 

Mrs. Judas looks so pretty and innocent 



78 An American Girl in Mexico. 

in her fluffy attire that one dares to hope 
she was not in the conspiracy at all. The 
day before Easter, to add to the deafening 
uproar and jubilee, the matraca is started. 
It is a big wooden machine in the tower of 
the Cathedral with a wheel inside which 
grinds against the walls, and of all the 
whirring, grating, unearthly sounds one 
ever heard, this is the worst. All day long it 
grinds till you are almost deafened by the 
sound. This day no bells are rung, which 
seems strange after the hundreds that have 
been making the air musical for weeks. 

A whole day I spent, going from Cathe- 
dral to Cathedral, even to a tiny church on 
the far outskirts of the city. The sights 
were startling. Though similar at all the 
churches, at the grand Cathedral the scene 
was most harrowing. In the centre aisle 
was a coffin in which lay a waxen figure of 
Christ, the eye sockets empty and bloody, 
t!he nail holes gaping in bleeding hands, and 
an expression of the most exquisite suffer- 




CATHEDRAL DE SAN FERNANDO. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 79 

ing on his face. Beside the bier stood the 
Virgin Mary, clothed in black, a pale waxen 
figure, with tears on the anguished face; a 
person is filled with wonder as to how they 
can make so painfully realistic the tears, 
the suffering faces, and the bleeding body of 
Christ There is literally weeping and 
wailing and gnashing of teeth among the 
distressed populace that looks on this scene 
with morbid horror. So natural did it look 
that I shuddered and turned away involun- 
tarily, and thought what it must be to them, 
steeped in ignorance and superstition, and 
believing, heart and soul, in the good of 
such a ceremony. They wring their hands 
and cry aloud, a very Bedlam of sorrowing 
voices in every church. Even the little chil- 
dren were wailing with their parents. 

Superstition reigns supreme in Mexico — 
particularly among ''los pohres/' When 
building a fire they make the sign of a cross 
in front of the oven. In killing a chicken 
they pull its head off and make the sign of 



So An American Girl in Mexico. 

the cross on the ground with its neck, de- 
claring that the chicken cannot jump from 
that spot. A child slow to talk is fed on 
boiled swallows. Colored glass beads 
ground fine are administered for paralysis. 
Candles are always burned in times of ill- 
ness or misfortune. The penchant for cere- 
monious display is national. Gay flowers, 
Chinese lanterns, flags and brightly attired 
throngs, are in evidence on every great day. 
Near every town of any size there is a 
sacred mountain on the top of which is a 
black cross. One who has been unusually 
wicked, and possesses a sufficiently sensi- 
tive conscience to direct it, climbs on bared 
knees to the top of that mountain, begs for- 
giveness at the foot of the cross, then de- 
scends over the sharp stones to the base of 
the mountain. The penitent is usually so 
exhausted after the several days of phy- 
sical and mental exertion and prolonged 
fasting that ministering friends have to 
assist him or her home. It is a 



An American Girl in Mexico. 8i 

pitiful, suffering religion, so full of hu- 
manism. They often travel for miles to do 
this penance, and though they lie in bed for 
days afterward with lacerated knees, their 
souls seem so spotless they feel repaid. One 
day a poor mother with a perfect brood of 
children came to beg from Seuora; all the 
children were dressed in tatters except one 
little timid girl about three years old, who 
wore a simple, clean white dress. I asked the 
cause of so great a difference in their ap- 
pearance, and was told that a priest had des- 
ignated her to be the sanctified member of 
her household; she must never be allowed 
to wear anything but white. 

This chosen child always receives the best 
of everything, and is not allowed to play 
like the other children, but set aside like 
something holy. I think the little thing 
must feel rather unhappy, and believe with 
Mark Twain: "Be good and you will be 
lonesome." 

The children generally lead such a happy 



82 An American Girl in Mexico. 

romping life, tumbling over the sidewalks 
or riding a 'half dozen at a time on one 
stubborn little burro. 

The '^peon'^ family spends most of the 
time in the streets, peddling any little 
article they may have, or lounging lazily 
about the plazas, while the children enjoy 
life. They clamber on to the passing street- 
car, (for which the driver gives^ them a sharp 
cut with his Ts^ip,) steal from the near-by 
fruit-seller, and chase every wheel they see. 

A bicycle is a source of unending curios- 
ity to these people. I heard of a party of 
Americans who were invited to a ball on a 
hacienda or ranch. They sailed out inde- 
pendently on their wheels, and a kindly dis- 
posed serving woman took the name of each 
one on a separate card as they entered — for 
what reason they did not question. When 
they started home, each found a card neatly 
pinned on the back tire, the tire as flat as it 
could well be. I think they decided to spend 
the night on the ranch. 




PEDRO WITH THE NINA OF LUZ. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 83 



CHAPTER VI. 

There was a dear little bright-eyed Mexi- 
can baby living opposite us, whose nurse 
brought it out on the sidewalk every after- 
noon dressed in glaring pink. It would 
laugh and coo when it spied me, and, greatly 
flattered, I decided to go over and make 
friends with little Miss Teresita. She im- 
mediately held out her hands for me to take 
her in my arms, which I did. To my dis- 
may I perceived that her ears were not as 
shell-like as they might be, and there was an 
unmistakable necklace of dirt about her 
little throat, so I hastily handed her back 
to the nurse with a forced smile, and went 
home. The Senora asked me why I stayed 
no longer. 



84 An American Girl in Mexico. 

"Because the baby was not clean," I 
answered in my clearest Spanish. 

"Oh, you are mistaken," the Senora as- 
sured me. "I know her mother and she is 
very careful with her baby. She bathes it 
every week." 

The ^^peon/' class are positively feline in 
their dread of water. It is a religious duty 
to bathe on the twenty-fourth day of June, 
and it is a well authenticated fact that this 
is the only bath most of the poorer class 
take during the year. 

Firmly do the pohres believe that this 
bath on el dia de San Juan Bautista brings 
beauty to the maiden, vigor to the matron, 
and freshness to the old maid. 

One who has been among them does not 
find this hard to believe. Josef, our yard 
man, said to me that "Americans are like 
fish; they love water." I asked him if he 
were going down for a bath on the twenty- 
fourth. "Oh, yes, I always do," he assured 
me. We went to watch them, and while a 



An American Girl in Mexico. 85 

trifle embarrassing, it was a very amusing 
spectacle. When the men filed into the river, 
their wives, or some attentive female, would 
proceed to wash their clothes and lay them 
out to dry. The bath was necessarily a long 
soaking one, waiting for the clothes. When 
all the men had arrayed themselves in their 
fresh linen and departed, the women put the 
children in and then began to disrobe 

But we left just then ! 

Next day I asked Josef about his bath. 

^'I was sick, Senorita," he said mourn- 
fully. "But I will bathe next June." 

It never seemed to occur to Josef that a 
bath on any other day would be as clean. 

They peddle the oddest things in the 
street. A glass of their native burning 
pulque^ so loved by all, aqua fresca 
(fresh water), or dingy looking lemonade, 
can be purchased on any corner, or even 
boiled roasting ears and baked sweet pota- 
toes. During Lent the business is thriving, 
for the streets are full of people who make a 



86 An American Girl in Mexico. 

dinner of a boiled roasting ear and feel 
thankful to get it. Fruit of all kinds is 
plentiful in every part of Mexico at all 
times. Mangoes^ dpotes, aguacates, or- 
anges, bananas and others, with such long 
names that I never learned to pronounce 
them. Such delicious figs and grapes! One 
would almost live there for them alone. It 
is interesting to watch a ^'peon's" way of 
buying. He will go up to a fruit 
stand, drop a centavo and, without a word, 
itake a mango or orange, though perhaps 
the vender had expected to receive more for 
the article. The ^^peon'^ sets his own price. 

Little boys can be seen in the streets with 
a string of steaks to deliver, which they do 
not hesitate to use as a whip on the first 
mongrel dog they meet, delighted at his 
yelp of surprise. Later you get one of these 
same steaks for supper. 

The way the poor dress, or rather, 
don't dress, is appalling. Such tatters as 
the veriest ragamufiSn in the States would 



An American Girl In Mexico. 87 

scorn, are to them princely attire; in fact, 
some of them are so indifferent to their 
needs from a standpoint of modesty — so 
prone to return to the days of fig leaves — 
that it is positively embarrassing. 

These people will throng the churches at 
Lent, and weep loudest of all, feeling no 
hesitation in calling attention to them- 
selves. Modesty in Mexico is a quality 
conspicuous for its absence. My cheeks 
often burned while listening to their con- 
versation, and the Senora would shake her 
head, saying, even to Senor Carlos, "We 
must not forget, the Senorita; she has so 
much false modesty, but she can't help it — 
all Americans have." 

On Easter eve Senora. invited me to go 
with them to church, and I, of course, ac- 
cepted. They made me dress in black, and 
put a lace mantilla on me to which I ob- 
jected, because it seemed sacrilegious, and, 
besides, made me look like a widow ; but they 
made me keep it on, telling me that I must 



88 An American Girl in Mexico. 

not wear a hat at that service. First we 
went to a little chapel near their home. 
Everything was confusion there. In the 
aisle the body of Christ lay in state as else- 
where, and all the people were weeping. 
Some little girls in white passed a lighted 
candle to each of us, and Concepcion giggled 
under her mantilla, trying to pull me down 
on my knees. Even while the beads of her 
rosary slipped through her fingers and her 
lips moved in prayer, she was smiling 
brightly up at me. 

Soon she took my hand and led me out, 
first stopping at the font to cross herself 
and me with holy water. Then we pro- 
ceeded to the Cathedral, and went through 
a like ceremony. The figures of Christ and 
the Virgin Mary looked more ghastly than 
ever in the bright light there, and the grief 
was accordingly more noisy. On the out- 
side the Cathedral was a vision of glory. All 
about the edges of the roof were burning 
candles about three inches apart. In the 



An American Girl in Mexico. 89 

belfry the entire surface was studded with 
them, until it looked like myriads of spark- 
ling diamonds. From all the hotels people 
assembled to gaze upon this beautiful pic- 
ture. The next morning I was awakened by 
glad bells on every side — all the bells in the 
Cathedral tower were ringing at once, and 
no one seemed to know how many there 
were, all a different size, so that the sound 
was a commingling of pretty tones. Every 
bell in the city was ringing nearly all day, 
with only brief pauses. 

The Virgin Mary now wore robes of maz- 
zarine blue. The mystic tears were gone, for 
Christ was risen. He looked down lovingly 
on his benighted followers with eyes that 
were yesterday so harrowingly absent. The 
scene was a glad one and every face beamed 
with happiness. The choir boys sang joy- 
ously as they scattered sweet incense, and 
the priests in royal purple velvet robes 
looked unusually well-fed. Nuns are not 



go An American Girl in Mexico. 

allowed in Mexico, but their priests are the 
objects of great reverence. 

Every household is appointed a pauper to 
feed. A tottering old woman came to our 
house every day for her dinner; this was 
the only meal she had. When the girls 
would hear her faltering step in the hall 
they would call out a welcome to the ^^vie- 
jita/' which means "little old one." 'Twas 
so pathetic to see her go into the kitchen 
and crouch down on the dirt floor to await 
her food. Some days she would be too ill 
to come, and would go hungry. 

The Spanish all have patron saints, for 
whom they are named, and this saint's day 
is more observed than a person's birthday. 
It was a source of wonder and pity to the 
Senora that I had no patron saint. What 
could my parents have been thinking about, 
she said, to give me the name of no saint. 
She even urged me to add the name of a 
saint to mine and celebrate the day, declar- 
ing she would be afraid to die with no saint 




THE BLIND LEAD THE BLIND. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 91 

to protect her. Their reverence for religion 
is beautiful. A car driver always bares his 
head upon passing a church if it be a hun- 
dred times a day, and poor old cripples 
crawling past the Cathedral pause to cross 
themselves. 

Some days I would just wander in the 
streets trying to see what I could see. I re^ 
member one afternoon particularly. I 
was homesick — desperately homesick, and 
thought to shake it off by a ramble among 
these ever interesting people, where there is 
something new to see every day. This time 
I had about mastered my emotions, and was 
watching a man lead a pig along the side- 
walk by a string — Si rebellious pig, that 
made a dash for every open door-way, and 
almost upset a millinery establishment in 
less than two minutes, arousing the risi- 
bilities of every one near except the owner of 
the establishment and the owner of the pig. 

I was laughing, too, when I heard the 
most melancholy strains of music. Glancing 



02 An American Girl in Mexico. 

about me I spied a grimy little boy perched 
on the pavement playing a harp — utterly 
I oblivious to all about him, playing "After 
I the Ball," more full of pathos than Charles 
I Harris, the composer, with all his morbid 
I conception of sorrow, could have conceived. 
I I never heard anything sweeter than that 
I little piece drawn from a crude harp that 
I cost only a few pennies. I wondered if the 
I youthful musician guessed that he was mak- 
ling a lonely American girl's eyes swim with 
I tears till she couldn't see her way. I left 
him, still playing his little song, and re- 
traced my steps with an emptier void in my 
heart and a cry from my heartsick soul for 
home. 

Joaquin Miller said of Mexico: "It is 
Italy and France and the best part of Spain 
tied up together in one bunch of rapturous 
fragrance." The climate is always perfect 
— ^to an American healthfully, delightfully 
soothing, yet a Mexican, swathed from eyes 



An American Girl in Mexico. 93 

to toes in a blanket will tell you this is ^^por 
el aire/^ (on account of the air). 

"Fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind." 
Aside from the pleasure of speaking the 
musical language I now conscientiously chat 
with every passing tamale man, for I know 
how dear the sound of his own tongue, 
when far from his tierra. Never shall 
I forget one day soon after my arrival, when 
I was lying in my room thinking how 
strange the jargon, half Indian, half Span- 
ish, of the old cook sounded when I heard 
a burly American voice say "See here, these 
pipes are ^busted' and no one on the place 
can understand me." I appeared in a mo- 
ment to enjoy the privilege of directing him, 
and of hearing him speak our substantial 
language. I don't believe I should have 
cared much if he had sworn — in English! 
Send the coldest hearted American, seeming- 
ly devoid of love of country, beyond the 
line where the last English is heard, and, if 
"Home, Sweet Home" doesn't bring tears to 



94 An American Girl in Mexico. 

his eyes, he is hopeless. Nothing so intensi- 
fies the love of our native land as abandon- 
ment of it. A peep into the charming home 
of our American Consul-General will cor- 
roborate this. Old Glory waves from every 
possible place, the walls are draped with it 
because they love it so. A treat lies in store 
for every American visitor that is so for- 
tunate as to meet the American Consul- 
General and his lovely young wife. 

The music of Mexico is a source of con- 
stant pleasure, but the melody that made 
me ready to shout for joy was, "A Hot 
Time in the Old Town To-night," played by 
an American football team passing through. 
The roar of appreciation from the assembled 
Americans was deafening. Let those laugh 
who will. I would that all who think thus 
would bid good-bye to every familiar face, 
manner and word, and go away to live 
among foreigners. Surely they will go to 
scoff and remain to weep. 

One day I saw an old ^^peon/' go up and 



An American Girl in Mexico. 95 

beg for one of the ever popular tamales, from 
a woman sitting on the pavement. She re- 
fused the request. Nothing daunted, he 
coaxed and teased the old hag, but she re- 
mained firm until he playfully tilted up her 
chin and kissed her. Then she gratefully 
handed him a tamale; so fond are they of 
this delicacy that I do not believe he thought 
his price too high. 

It always sounded so funny to hear 
those tiny brown children prattling Span- 
ish, for they learn to talk sooner than 
American babies, their language is so easy 
to learn. But funnier still is it to hear the 
chatter of the parrots in the markets, that 
speak with all the rolling pronunciation of 
their instructors, who, for four dollars in 
their money, will gladly part with one. 
They sell easily, but do not bring as good 
a price as the little Chihuahua dog, which 
is so small that a man can stick one in his 
pocket, and avoid the duty at the border. 



96 An American Girl in Mexico. 

whereas a parrot would scream vociferously 
at such an indignity. 

AYhat trouble people do get into for 
smuggling! A bridal pair I knew, who 
tried to hide some of the native drawn work 
in their trunks, were arrested, and made to 
pay five hundred dollars American money 
before they were allowed to leave Laredo. 
The saddest part of the situation was that 
they had to telegraph to the bride's father 
for the money. The bridegroom exacted a 
promise from his wife that as long as she 
lived she would never allow a piece of drawn 
work to be seen in their home. People are 
caught daily trying to smuggle. One clever 
woman was discovered with her pompadour 
filled with opals ; still another tried to wear 
a bustle made of a handsome drawn-work 
table cloth. The officials were too well up 
on fashion, though, for her. This woman — 
looking like a picture from Godey's Maga- 
zine with her huge bustle — was directed to 
interview the inspectress; consequently the 



An American Girl in Mexico. 97 

handsome cloth never decked her table, and 
when she was allowed to proceed on her 
journey it was with a much lightened purse. 
People would better decide not to be too 
clever around the ever alert ojOadals. 

That examination at the border is by no 
means a myth. The train stops, and first a 
quiet woman with a mantilla over her head 
comes through the coach and makes known 
that she is the inspectress. Every satchel 
must be opened and its contents displayed. 
It depends entirely on her humor whether 
every article must come out. If suspicious, 
she demands a glimpse of even your tooth- 
brush, and may peep into your powder box. 

Then everyone gets off the train and goes 
into the baggage room, where inspectors and 
inspectresses wait to swoop down on the 
trunks like Assyrian wolves on the fold. 
You are allowed to open your own trunk 
and watch the examination, and if you can 
say a few pleasant words in Spanish, so 
much the better. Sometimes the scrutiny is 



98 An American Girl in Mexico. 

superficial, sometimes every garment will be i 
held up to the eyes of the public, the hose 
unrolled and the inspectress' hands run into 
them even. It is amusing to watch the dif- 
ferent expressions of the inspected. All 
have been advised to look indifferent, and 
the efforts are almost ludicrous. A man 
with several boxes of cigars down deep in 
his trunk will look away whistling, but an 
occasional glance out of the corner of hisi 
eye says plainly that he is not at ease. Oth- 
ers will be entirely too ingratiating, and 
still others tremble with fear — ^but I found 
that innocence is the very best safeguard. 
To go to ^^la campana^' (the country) 
is a source of unmixed joy to a Mexican. 
Often we used to order up a burro each and, , 
strapping on a blanket and the few essen- 
tials for camping out, would be off for ^Hai 
campana/' Far out among the silenti 
mountains we would pass the summer home^ 
of the governor, a beautiful retreat that he 
loved more than his mansion in town.. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 99 

Once, when he was there, we stopped for 
several days — delightful days, buried from 
view in that perfect spot. Wide, cool, stone 
galleries, luxuriant growth of all kinds, and 
the Southern hospitality of the governor, 
combined to make the days most pleasant, 
but even this could not long hold us. We 
must go away further into oblivion and 
camp in some sunshiny spot on the bank of a 
babbling little brooklet where all day birds 
warbled sweetly in the palm trees, lizards 
basked in the sunshine, and we lay in bliss- 
ful idleness, enjoying the wonders of nature 
here, for Mexicans never tire of the match- 
less beauties of their land. 

Occasionally we would hear the tread of 
a sandaled foot and spy a pulque man 
with his pigskin pouch making his way to 
some pulque plant to extract the beloved 
beverage. Far away and lonely he seemed, 
but as undisturbed as the birds and lizards 
by our intrusion. There was nothing in his 



LofC. 



loo An American Girl in Mexico. 

life but to extract pulque to sell to his fel- 
lowmen for the downfall of their morals. 

Away in those sylvan shades of palms and 
waving bananas is found a deadly lit- 
tle plant. It is an opiate, joy giving in its 
effect for a time, but whose insidious poison 
gradually permeates the system, until the 
poor creature, smoking the little herb, (for 
'tis thus its poison is imbibed,) one day 
helplessly bats his or her eyes, fights for 
light, then learns that no ray of light is ever 
again to come to the poor mortal. Nor is this 
all. Soon all his faculties are gone, and they 
tell you he is ^^locoed/' (crazed), and until 
death releases the poor creature he sits 
(there hour by hour, screaming in weird 
laughter one frightful peal after another, 
mirthless as blood-curdling. It seems in- 
congruous that such gruesome possibilities 
could be contained in this pretty little fra- 
grant plant. Not only troubled human 
beings seek its solace; often a poor dumb 
animal, strangely lacking in the instinct of 



An American Girl in Mexico. loi 

self-preservation, will become inoculated 
with the poison, dying the same frightful 
death. 'Tis the bitter amid the sweet. A 

Never before had I cared to live in the ] 
country, but there the fascination, the at- 
tractiveness of a home scene, a lowly home 
scene, impressed me as some are impressed 
by looking from a bridge down upon mighty | 
waters. I felt that I must become a part of 
this life, leaving the old behind. 

I longed to join the home circle, and al- \ 
ways left with a sense of something lacking, j 
after the contemplation of one of those | 
peaceful scenes — a little adobe house nest- | 
ling among the hills — flowers blossoming I 
about it — birds carolling in the trees and | 
nearly always a contented woman with a I 
sleeping baby in her arms. v,>«^ 

Coming in one day suddenly I discovered 
the Seiiora and her daughters smoking cig- 
arettes, which they quickly threw behind 
the settee. I knew smoking was customary 
but I didn't believe this family indulged in 



I02 An American Girl in Mexico. 

it. At the theatres the men smoke so that 
the room is in a cloud most of the time dur- 
ing the play. 

The women in Northern Mexico are be- 
coming a little ashamed of the practice, and 
are secretive about it. American ways are 
beginning to be adopted. Some ladies are 
even laying aside their pretty mantillas on 
the plazas and wearing hats ; the more loyal 
ones, however, look as sweet and coy as 
their mothers, and their mother's mothers 
looked. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 103 



CHAPTER VII. 

The Mexicans are a happy people in their 
home life. But with all their love for home 
they have no word in their language ex- 
pressive of its tender meaning. Casa the 
word they use means merely house. They 
are finished in the delicate art of evasion. 
A secret is a, secret which all the powers of 
earth could not extract. After the time 
spent in sleep and at the table, the hours to 
be spent in other occupations are not many, 
for they remain at the table exchanging 
news and pleasantries more than an hour 
each meal, and when one considers how 
many meals they have this is no mean 
length of time. Senor Carlos always got 
out his guitar at twilight, and sang for us, 



I04 An American Girl in Mexico. 

songs full of love, every note a sigh. Both 
the girls played the mandolin, and the 
Senora played both the piano and the guitar, 
so there was no dearth of music. Every 
Mexican girl plays a mandolin. Her edu- 
cation is not considered complete without it. 
No jacal is so humble but that the tinkle 
of the mandolin may be heard within its 
adobe walls. 

They learned our "Home, Sweet Home," 
and played it with so much tenderness that 
I invariably listened with tear-dimmed eyes. 
But most of all they enjoyed coon songs. I 
had always thought these undignified, but 
one evening when I had played everything 
I could think of I struck up "Miss Ambolina 
Snow." They were delighted, for to them 
^^las negritas'' are as interesting as monkeys. 
One sees no negroes there, unless it is the 
few very stylishly dressed ones that flaunt 
through the streets with their heads held 
higher than anyone about them. 

So every evening they would insist on 



\ 



An American Girl in Mexico. 105 

hearing music of ^^Las negritas/' and ^g- 
gled at every word I sang, although they 
could not understand. Seiior Carlos called 
his sister Kosita ^^la negrita/' because she 
was so dark, and had such big black eyes, 
and the cognomen never failed to arouse her 
resentment. She frequently so far forgot 
herself as to throw a tortilla across the table 
at her brother, Senora protesting : ^^Ninas, 
ninas'' (children, children). Carlos was a 
dreadful tease, though. The Senora had 
the most brilliant coloring for a woman of 
her age, and he would pat her face and de- 
clare his mother was an artist in painting. 
But what Carlos said was always perfect 
in his mother's eyes. 

I never wearied of hearing about Senora's 
romantic marriage. She, now such a stately 
woman, had married a man of thirty-five, 
a governor. She was a child then, just thir- 
teen, and the pictures of her taken on that 
day are sweetly innocent and lovely. Around 
her slender throat is a rope of pearls, and the 



io6 An American Girl in Mexico. 

childish hands wear the old family wedding 
ring and the engagement solitaire, so 
young for such emblems of responsibility. 
She had brought all her dolls with her, and 
had been displeased because one had not 
been allowed to lie in her lap in the picture. 
For a time she amused herself sewing for 
her dolls, refusing even to return her calls. 
Soon, however, she tired of the great lonely 
house, and her toys, and did not hesitate to 
say so, and, despairing of managing the ser- 
vants, cried to go home. So he took her 
back to spend a few weeks, her mother re- 
turning with her to the new home. She 
stood "With very reluctant feet — where 
womanhood and childhood meet." Yet, 
many of the girls there, of all classes, as- 
sume such responsibilities at this early 
age. 

In this old house of memories, that had 
been standing more than a hundred years 
mice and cockroaches abounded. Every 
few weeks the girls and their mother would 



An American Girl in Mexico. 107 

start on a tour of the house ridding it of 
these unwelcome tenants. This they did 
not trust to the servants. For some reason 
the girls imagined they must remove their 
stockings for the fray, and wear only their 
little slippers, which were so small they 
looked as if they might have belonged to 
Cinderella. 

It was great fun to watch this game, for 
such they made it. With skirts lifted high 
tlhey would give chase, and if the mouse 
came their way they struck at it with a 
broom, made for the nearest chair, and 
shrieked as women will the world over for 
a mouse. 

This was the only work they did, week in 
and week out. Almost the whole afternoon 
was passed in slumber, and afterward came 
^^visitas^' or shopping, or that endless pac- 
ing around the plaza. They never tire of 
this if they live single till they are forty. 
After marriage they do not come to the 
plaza so much. Of course, during the hon- 



io8 An American Girl in Mexico. 

eymoon, they do not miss this opportunity 
for dress parade. Nothing could be more 
demure and coquettish than Rosita in her 
plaza attire, with always a sparkling fan- 
chain — and who knows so well how to wield 
a fan as a Spanish maiden? Her blacli 
hair she wears high on her head with a tor- 
toise-shell comb over which she drapes her 
soft mantilla, and peeps from beneath it 
with the most bewitchingly conscious air 
one can imagine. She manages with in* 
imitable grace her beruffled skirts the man- 
tilla, and (her fan ; nor ever forgets a certain 
toss of her head, so coy that people sit and 
watch for her to pass — ^her tiny high-heeled 
shoes clicking daintily on the stone walk — 
a Mexican girl whom it would be easy for 
the most invulnerable American to lose his 
heart to. The conscious air and the elusive 
coquettish manner harmonize so perfectly 
with all else in that land of dreams. Mexi- 
cans put on mourning for the most remote 
relative. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 109 

One evening I found Concepcion, a som- 
bre figure in black, crying. She told me 
that a cousin of hers had just died, but when 
I tried to comfort her, she said: 

"Oh, I'm not crying for that. I didn't 
know him. I'm crying because I have to 
wear this ugly black a month, and can't 
go on the plaza," 

As a people they do not believe in each 
other. A mother questions her daughter's 
word, and a daughter doubts her mother. 
One evening when I came home Senora 
asked me if I had seen her girls on the 
plaza. I said "No," thoughtlessly, for I 
hadn't noticed. When they came I heard a 
volley of as harsh words as their language 
can express, and Senora saying: ''Mentira, 
mentira/' which, in pure nervous English, is 
liar. Concepcion slipped up to me and said 
in her excitable little voice: 

"Why in the world didn't you say you saw 
us on the plaza? She will never believe us 
now." 



no An American Girl in Mexico. 

It seemed to me so strange that a moth- 
er as devoted as theirs could doubt the state- 
ment of her grown daughters. It is said 
that a Spaniard's surveillance of his wife 
is unceasing — with the eye of a hawk he 
watches her every movement, and yet I have 
seen the stealthy exchange of missives on the 
plaza, times innumerable, between people I 
knew were supposed to be happily married, 
to some one else. This is why one man 
has written of them, "A land whose flowers 
have no perfume, men no honor, and women 
no virtue.'' 

Yet how can one blame them, with their 
foolish customs. To them the iron-barred 
window with the face behind is the shrine 
before which they worship. Between lov- 
ers there has never been a conversation per- 
haps until engaged, and they meet after the 
engagement only in the presence of the 
girl's family, so that they are necessarily 
mere strangers on the day they become hus- 
band and wife. Even at balls, between 



An American Giri in Mexico, iti 

dances, a young man leaves his partner im- 
mediately and usually goes from the room 
to smoke until the next number. And their 
dancing is such a rapid, pretty whirl, that, 
although they make the most of the oppor- 
tunity, there is small chance for conversa- 
tion. 

One night a young man sat behind me in 
the ball room and discussed me with a 
friend in painfully audible tones 

"Isn't the Senorita beautiful — her hair 
is like sunshine, and her eyes — did you ever 
see such eyes?" were the kind of remarks 
that came to me, and made me wonderfully 
uncomfortable and indignant. I tried to 
persuade myself that they didn't know who 
I was, until he leaned nearer me and said 
even more distinctly : 

"She is divinely tall — don't you think 
so? Most Americans are." 

A little later he rushed up to my partner 
and said: 

"I wish to meet the Americano/^ This is 



112 An American Girl in Mexico. 

no uncommon way for them to request an 
introduction, but my turn had come. 

"I regret, Seiior, that my acquaintance 
is already sufficiently large," I said, and 
started to turn away, but he stepped in 
front of me, with an amazed expression on 
his face. I saw that he did not understand 
my action so 1 reminded him of his conduct 
of a moment earlier. He seemed even more 
astonished. 

"Am I then not to say so if I like your 
looks?" he asked. 

"I prefer that you should refrain from 
doing so in my hearing," I answered him. 

"You mean to tell me that you are dis- 
pleased because I admire your hair and 
eyes? Truly, Senorita, you are an excep- 
tional woman. But I beg your pardon, if 
that's what you wish, though I know not 
why I should. Will you dance with me?" 
he concluded. 

"I'd rather not, if you cannot see wherein 
you have erred." 



An American Giri in Mexico. 113 

"Oh, Senorita, I see from your stand- 
point, but you Americans are so peculiar 
and hard to understand. Will you not par- 
don me this once?" So I did. And 'tis a 
fact that their women are most pleased with 
such flattery. While a man dare not walk 
with one alone in the street he is no less a 
gentleman if he says something flattering 
as she passes — not to her but of her. 

On the street it really is most annoying 
the way they do. A man will deliberately 
turn and exclaim ^^Qiie JiermosaF' ("how 
beautiful,") and feel that he has paid you 
the highest tribute. They sometimes even 
stop their carriage and follow a girl out of 
sight with their eyes. It is useless to resent 
it, for the lesson would have to be taught to 
the entire masculine portion of the Repub- 
lic, who know from experience that flattery 
is the open sesame to a Senorita's favor. 
Senor Carlos had a friend who used to come 
to see him every few days — 'twas another 



114 ^^ American Girl in Mexico. 

^*Damon and Pythias" devotion. This 
friend began to bring a box of ^'dulces^^ to 
me each visit, and watch me more each time 
and make little side remarks to the family 
that I could not but see were favorable. One 
day he said to Carlos in my presence: "I 
wish I had seen the Senorita three years ago, 
before I married." I was greatly surprised, 
for he was such a slender^ youthful looking 
man, with such a boyish face. I did not go 
into the parlor the next time he came, and 
he sent word to me, "Please to come." But 
I pleaded the time-worn excuse of a head- 
ache, and then he sent me a little note in 
his best English, of which he was very 
proud. It ran : 

"Senorita ; 

"No stars shine in my heaven this day. 
Your eyes are my stars. Without them I 
have no light. May I be lonely? 

"Enrique." 






An American Girl in Mexico. 1 1 5 

Beneath the signature of every letter, 
however informal, there is a sort of peculiar 
flourish — ithe more elaborate, the better. 
Without it no note has any importance. 
This ^^ruhica'^ is taught at school. Always 
before giving away a photograph they in- 
scribe on the back some pretty verse or sen- 
timent. In the dainty little hand with the 
^^ruhica'^ particularly elaborate Rosita 
wrote on the picture that she gave me : 



^^A tUy mi predilecta de todas otras, la 
mas hermosa y divina. Rosita." 

Which translated is : "To thee, my favor- 
ite of all others, the most beautiful and 
divine. Rosita." 

One day I missed my watch, the favorite 
of all my belongings, and I turned my room 
upside down before I gave the alarm. The 
servants were arraigned, one by one, and un- 
hesitatingly accused by the family. Each 
denied it. In fact, I don't believe there was 



ii6 An American Girl in Mexico. 

a servant in the house who knew I had a 
watch at all. I felt quite sure that Trinidad, 
my maid, was guilty, but her tearful face 
and heartrending protestations of innocence 
made me feel like a culprit myself. 

"How can you believe I could steal your 
watch, Seiiorita, when you have been so 
good 'to me and have given me so many 
pretty things?" she would say tearfully. 

So I let Trinidad go, and even begged her 
pardon. Of course, I cried over the loss of 
my watch, and it was many months before 
I recovered it. A friend discovered it in one 
of the many pawnshops, and it had been left 
there by a girl whose name was Trinidad 
Garcia de Calzado. So my "innocent" maid 
was guilty. 

The government has a pawnshop in every 
city. It is called the ^^Monte de Piedad/' or 
"Mountain of Piety," and is really a godsend 
to the peonSy who can borrow money on 
anything there. It is a nice place to visit. 
There are carriages of the richest with tags 



An American Girl in Mexico. 117 

hung over the monograms, cradles of the 
poorest, with no monograms to hide — 
dresses, machines and anything but live 
stock, at this Monte de Piedad. The interest 
on the loan is small, and when the time has 
run out with the article unredeemed it is 
sold and the price, less the loan and interest, 
returned to the original owner. Rare old 
jewels can be picked up there for a song. 
I knew a man who bought a blue fan made 
in 1300 of something like pearl which cost 
him thirty dollars Mexican money ; in a few 
days he refused an offer of a hundred dollars 
in gold for it. 

The peons' propensity for purloining is 
not exaggerated. They carry long hooks, 
which tjhey use for dragging counterpanes 
off a bed or a rug from a propitious spot in 
the room ; they literally "hook" any article 
they can, and there are many accessible 
things to be reached through the iron win- 
dows. They are professional beggars, com- 
mencing it from the day they can lisp out 



ii8 An American Girl in Mexico. 

^^ufi centavo/' and never attain an age at 
which they are ashamed to beg. 

Adults are restricted to Saturday as a 
day for begging, and though they use all 
days, if a person cares to be so heartless, 
he can have one arrested for doing so. Such 
distressing numbers of cripples as one en- 
counters! Some claim that children are 
crippled by their guardians in order that 
ihey may be more successful beggars. This 
though is hard to believe, as one of their 
admirable traits is their love for their chil- 
dren, and they do have such scope for an 
exhibition of this love in their enormous 
families. 

There are no tennis courts nor golf links 
among the Spanish. No basket-ball teams 
nor bicycle clubs to give a healthful rose 
tint to the cheeks; the soft olive of their 
skin is nature's gift to her most indolent 
child. They are neither tall nor fair, but 
they are slight — every movement is full of 
grace, and they are essentially feminina 



J 



An American Girl in Mexico. 119 

Because they do not indulge in athletics 
and "go in" for the "higher education" of 
women, detracts nothing from their person- 
ality, and they are thoroughly simpatica. 
The limit that it is considered well for a 
girl to reach in school is not as high as an 
American would sanction, but they see no 
need for higher mathematics and science. 

When a girl has learned to write the most 
diminutive faint hand — to express herself 
extrayagantly in poetic language — the spell- 
ing mostly correct, there is no fault to be 
found with her literary education. Schools 
are as primitive as everything else in Mex- 
ico. The small children study aloud like 
the Chinese, and to a person passing a school 
house it sounds like buzzing bees. 

The children of a family usually take the 
surname of the mother, and when the father 
dies the mother always signs herself 
"widow" of Senor, whoever he is. This cus- 
tom seems very strange to Americans whose 
mother's name is always lost at the altar. 



I20 An American Girl In Mexico. 

But there are many things strange about the 
Mexicans. 

^^Andele — andele — vamonos'' ( "hurry — 
hurry — let us go,") calls out the blue uni- 
formed conductor — in sharp contrast to the 
prosaic "All aboard" we are accustomed to 
hearing. 

At every stop Americans clamber down to 
gaze wonderingly upon the novel scene 
about them, until this pretty note of warn- 
ing is given. 

When one contemplates a tour the initial 
consideration is the wherewithal to meet in- 
cidental expenses — the anticipation of which 
makes him without a bottomless pocket 
shudder with apprehension. The popular 
conception of a tourist is one whose pockets 
fairly bulge with money. Story books — the 
touring gilded fool whose actions prompted 
some wiseacre to observe that "a fool and 
his money soon part," and the time-worn 
newspaper joke of the young man who 
slaves all the year for a salary in three fig- 



d 



An American Girl in Mexico. 121 

ures and parts with twenty dollars for a 
foreign supper, are responsible for the erro- 
neous idea. 

Another popular conception is that the in- 
habitants of all foreign countries are a set 
of professional pickpockets, who, in a fig- 
urative sense, keep their hands constantly 
down in the pockets of the traveller. 

Tourists who honor our sister Eepublic 
with a visit are surprised at the insignifi- 
cance of expenses. The greatest leveler of 
life is travel. Cinders, delayed trains, and 
impossible sand^\dches are no respecters of 
persons. These touches of nature make the 
whole world kin. The ever changing scen- 
ery and the shifting stream of humanity 
lend an interest to travel that is fascinating 
and demoralizing. How infinitely more en- 
joyable to roll through the stony streets in a 
peculiar old fashioned coach than in modern 
rubber-tired carriage. 

Nothing could be more charming than a 
string of these old coaches to be seen there 



122 An American Girl in Mexico. 

any day. Nothing bespeaks their lack of 
progress more plainly tllian the vehicles they 
use. Every great change the world has seen 
has been marked by a change of vehicle. 
They are mile posts in the world's progress. 
While in appearance their trains are like 
ours, the several grades of travel make a vast 
difference. It is a kind of first-class-passen- 
ger-stay-in-and-ride — second-class-passen- 
ger-get-out-and-walk — ■ third-class-passen- 
ger-get-out-and-push affair that is alleged to 
have existed in the old stage coach era. To 
begin with' the third-class and end in a 
luxurious Pullman, is immeasurably better 
than starting in a Pullman and ending 
amid the squalor and unutterable woe of the 
^^pdhres/' '^No equipaje con holetos de ter- 
cera class/' reads a third-class ticket. 
This ostracism of luggage on a third-class 
ticket falls, a harmless shaft, at the feet of 
the ^^pobres." 

Had the officials ruled that they must car- 
ry baggage in order to ride, they would in- 



An American Girl in Mexico. 123 

deed have worked a hardship on them, for 
they do not possess a rag which is not doing 
actual service. They repose stolidly, if not 
comfortably, on a bench built along the side 
of a coach, the poverty of appointments and 
unclean condition of which does not in the 
least disconcert them. In these third-class 
coaches lie the possibilities of smallpox, for, 
in contagious diseases, Mexicans are very 
acquisitive. They all have smallpox. It 
stamps upon their faces a visible proclama- 
tion that they have lived up to the tenets of 
the times. 

Far more reasonable in price — their ho- 
tels make up in novelty what they lack in 
system and haste. The servants are docile 
and pleasing, and do not consider that they 
hold the destiny of the establishment in the 
hollow of their hands. 

One does not have to wander block after 
block with his weather eye out for a lunch 
stand. The w'hole culinary talent of the 
city turns out en masse seeking whom they 



124 A^ American Girl in Mexico. 

can find to devour their wares — ^'huevos 
cosidos'^ (boiled eggs,) ^^camotes^' (sweet 
potatoes,) and other things which would 
appeal only to a very vitiated and suscepti-' 
ble palate. At every corner one is beset by 
tihese venders, who insist that you take 
something for your stomach's sake, and for 
that very reason you desist. 

A vagary of Mexican character that is well 
nigh baffling, to a student of human nature, 
is their vacillating understanding of ^^In^ 
glesJ' (English). In stipulating terms of 
exchange or barter their understanding of 
English and monetary denominations is 
perfect. If given too little, they immedi- 
ately devise a means of conveying to you in 
no uncertain manner that something more 
is coming to them ; if paid too much, and one 
attempts to impress them with the fact, all 
understanding forsakes them, they become 
exasperatingly obtuse, and it is almost like 
"holding a man up" to get your money back. 
Curios can be had for a trifle if bought in 



An American Girl in Mexico. 125 

the streets and markets; however, if one 
wanders into their lovely shops, he emerges 
from its alluring precincts a sadder but a 
wiser man, feeling as though he had gone 
through the extracting processes of an 
American church bazaar. 

Another paramount consideration when 
going touring, is, "What shall I wear?" 
Ever since Mother Eve vainly arrayed her- 
self in fig leaves, dress has been a neces- 
sary commodity in all civilized countries, 
and has come to be considered the keynote 
to one's character. For a tour of Mexico, 
the only preparation necessary is to haul 
down a few of your summer clothes that 
have escaped the rag man and take a light 
wrap for evenings on the plaza. It is said 
that a person going out after sunset with- 
out a light wrap is liable to instantaneous 
pneumonia. Thus you are amply equipped 
for passage through the domain of 
the Montezumas. However, if you wish to 
be the cynosure of all eyes and ^^muy ele- 



126 An American Girl in Mexico. 

gante/' according to the dictates of Mexican 
propriety, provide yourself with several bril- 
liantly colored costumes; above all things 
wear no short skirts, and your prome- 
nades on the plaza will be one long triumph 
from a standpoint of individual attention. 
Among the climatic peculiarities is the fact, 
so they affirm, that one stepping out of a 
darkened room into the ever radiant light 
is in danger of being struck blind. 

Their distinctive love for flashy colors 
has always been unaccountable to tourists, 
unless attributed to their geographical loca- 
tion. It is characteristic of people who live 
near the heart of nature and especially peo- 
ple in tropical or semi-tropical lands, where 
the delicate brush of nature has given to the 
plumage of every bird, and petal of every ^ 
flower, a matchless brilliancy. Their ey( 
have become trained to it and they look upon 
all neutral shades as a direct departure from 
nature. Brilliant hues lend to life a gaiety 
dear to the heart of every Mexican. Th( 



An American Girl in Mexico. 127 

'^pohres^' in their bright blankets attract 
the attention of all tourists, who shower 
down pennies to the motley throng at every 
station in order to watch the feverish 
scrambling of agile children and decrepit 
mendicants. It is a fair field and no favors. 



128 An American Girl in Mexico. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

We had been planning the trip for some 
time before we took it, the Senora and 
her three daughters. But at last we 
shook the dust of Monterey from our 
feet and left for Mexico City. 

We spent a few days at Saltillo, and 1 
have wondered that more Americans do not 
spend their summers there. The matchless 
climate, the awe-inspiring mountains, and 
the quaint picturesqueness of the little 
place, unite in making it a particularly 
charming resort. 

The sunsets of Mexico! Above all else 
in beauty impossible of description — it 
daily sheds its luminous colors over that 



An American Girl in Mexico. 129 

pretty world to overwhelm traveller and 
dweller alike with, its wondrous beauty. 
"When the longest day at last bows down 
to evening" and the great sun sinks slowly 
to rest behind some lone mountain and na- 
ture throws her calcium lights with their 
matchless glints and tints upon the vast can- 
vas of the heavens, the soul is enthralled as 
things mundane lose themselves in the 
sweetness and solemnity of the spell. 

Boarding houses are almost unknown, 
and so strong is their feeling against pub- 
licity in domestic life that a girl, or a girl 
with her mother, cannot call on a friend at 
a hotel without jeopardizing her good stand- 
ing. To rent a house in Mexico is a sort of 
hide and seek game without the fun. One 
must trudge up one stony street and down 
another with furtive glance directed toward 
every ironbarred window for the inevitable 
little fluttering paper sign of vacant houses. 
Most of these are viviendas or suites of 
rooms that rent for any fabulous figure the 



I 



130 An American Girl in Mexico. 

owner dares name; the higher upstairs, the 
deeper in pocket. 

The hotels which are so good here are won- 
derfully cheap. But life is cheap anywhere 
in Mexico. F'or the same price in Mexican 
money that one would have to pay in gold 
in the States a person can board there at 
delightfully foreign places. 

As the train flashes into the tropics 
through lands bright with sunshine, stream- 
ing green foliage and tropical sky, the trav- 
eller's face loses its look of vacant half in- 
quiry, for one of pleased wonder and vague 
delight in the shifting scene about him — the 
peculiar people and the more peculiar 
names; names such as ^^Canon de las zopo- 
lotes^' (Canon of the turkey-buzzards), and 
Cuernavaca (Horn of a Cow). 

The trip from Saltillo to San Luis P'otosi 
is lovely, every moment one of interest. The 
way is lined with great Spanish dagger 
plants as tall as oak trees. A thousand par- 
rots scream in the forests as the train rat- 



An American Girl in Mexico. 131 

ties by. At every stopping place, and there 
is one every few miles — peddlers meet the 
train crying out their wares, which consist 
mostly of little horn trays and the pretty 
bright woolen serapes or blankets. 

One old man tried to coax me into buying 
a toy he exhibited with much pride — made of 
dry corn-stalks. It was something between 
a carpenter's sawhorse a horse and a rab- 
bit. I don't believe there is a child in the 
United States who would have enjoyed play- 
ing with it. 

Our purses received the most guarded pro- 
tection during these peddlers' invasion of the 
train, for they have a very unsavory repu- 
tation as ^^rateros^' or thieves lying in wait 
for every train — literally lying in wait, for 
they bring their blankets and sleep by the 
track until the train comes in. They are 
not notified of the change of schedule, but 
that makes no difference — they know it has 
to come some time and they have nothing 
else to do but wait. 



132 An American Girl in Mexico. 

We spent a week at San Luis Potosi in the 
home of Seuora's brother, who had a sweet 
sad-faced wife and three little girls, and we 
were royally entertained. I enjoyed most 
the evenings on the plaza, listening to the 
band. No music can express the love, the 
heartache and the yearning that theirs does, 
and in San Luis it was particularly beauti- 
ful. There is music in the very air — music 
peculiar to the country and the people. 
Nothing could be more exquisite than their 
"Home, Sweet, Home'' found in the strains 
of "La Golondrina." When away from his 
native land a Mexican's eyes fill with tears 
at the first notes of this air, and he dreams 
of his adobe or marble home with brightly 
glistening eyes. It strikes the soul of the 
stoutest, sternest native of that sentimental 
land. 

Intense, emotional, and high-spiritod as 
the Mexicans are, one is impressed by the 
absence of insanity unless produced by a 
peculiar opium. However, there was a 



J 



An American Girl in Mexico. 133 

beautiful girl near us who became insane 
about music, a daughter of one of the best 
families. Mexicans are rigid in the enforce- 
ment of their law that there shall beno music 
after ten o'clock at night, unless at a ball. 
No private family is safe from arrest who al- 
lows music after ten, but this family have a 
special permit for their daughter, and al- 
most any night after twelve she may be seen 
on the roof of her home bowing and smiling 
her acceptance of imaginary floral tributes, 
her clear voice ringing out sweet and start- 
ling on the midnight air. She imagines 
herself a prima donna, and such she doubt- 
less would have been but for the mis- 
fortune of diverted faculties. More than 
one person strolls over to Dr. Coss street 
late each evening, and stands, rapt, listen- 
ing to this poor nightingale, unable to real- 
ize that the beautiful human songbird is a 
crazed creature, a rarity indeed in that land 
of enchantment. 

Our Americans are not slow to see the 



134 ^^ American Girl in Mexico. 

possibilities of a new country, and Mexi- 
co is practically a new country, and they are 
rapidly awakening to the fact that not far 
from us lies a land blessed by a glorious cli- 
mate and imbedded with rich minerals, un- 
til several millions of American dollars are 
invested there in mining properties monthly. 
I knew an American boy who opened a 
photograph gallery there, and he and a 
friend invested their little savings in an old 
mine that was thought to be worthless. His 
salary was small, and his expenditures nat- 
urally less, but their determination never 
wavered. When they eventually got pos- 
session of the mine they interested Northern 
capital; and the young photographer re- 
cently sold one-third of his interest for a 
quarter of a million dollars in gold. Of 
course this turn of affairs may be called 
luck, but, after all, "luck is pluck." A 
Mexican thinks money by inheritance the 
only money worth having, — perhaps being 



i 



i 



An American Girl in Mexico. 135 

reared in that sleepy clime makes them the 
languorous people they are. 

No land under the shining sun is more 
wondeirful, more peculiarly interesting 
than the historic land of the Montezumas. 
From the time of the sun worshippers down 
to the time of the Diaz worshippers, its 
thrilling history reads with a romantic 
charm that is indescribable. Lying for cen- 
turies wrapt in slumber, it seemed all un- 
mindful of the progress of other lands. Like 
Kip Van Winkle, when it did awake, it 
strenuously resisted all innovations in the 
least calculated to disturb its time-honored 
ways and traditions. But the restless, re- 
sistless spirit of the twentieth century is si- 
lently stealing in upon it, and while the 
changes of the past decade were in gradual 
process of evolution, they were scarcely per- 
ceived by those living there. Despite these 
changes, were one borne, in the twinkling 
of an eye, from the Arctic region, with 
its rigorous atmosphere and bleakly 



136 An American Girl in Mexico. 

desolate landscape, to the tropics, where 
the lavish hand of nature has given to every 
tree and flower such perfect form, he would 
be no more struck with the wonder of the 
transition than he is when he is whisked 
across the Kio Grande into Mexico. Tour- 
ists return from that winterless land won- 
dering at the vagaries of nature. But at 
last God's masterpiece, man, is the most 
wonderful of all, and to the studenft of 
human nature who loves to watch the 
faults, the fancies and the virtues of his 
fellowmen, the people of Mexico are a source 
of pleasant research. Indolence is a nar 
tional heritage, handed down from an un^ 
broken line of luxury loving ancestry. 
They drift and dream their lives away to the 
tinkle of the guitar. In the even tenor of 
every-day life they are most passive, yet, 
when aroused, their love, hate and jealousy, 
their emotions and passions amount to hy- 
steria. 

At the markets are stalls where butterine 



An American Girl in Mexico. 137 

is sold. This butterine is all made by an 
American woman who got a concession to 
make it, selling every pound for fifty cents, 
Mexican money. Her butterine goes all 
over the Riepublic; no one else can make it 
without buying part of her concession from 
her. This is one of the advantages of Mex- 
ico for any enterprise, as there can be no 
competition. 

^^Mantequillay mantequilla/^ ("butter,") 
^^hlaneias/^ ("eggs,") ^^leche/' (milk,) was 
the droning cry I heard all about me in the 
market place, when at my side, to my pleased 
surprise, I heard a substantial American 
voice call out : "Fresh butter here !" It was 
a stolid business-like looking American wo- 
man presiding over her stall amid that sea 
of foreign faces. 

When progressive Americans see the na- 
tives actually plowing with crooked sticks, 
and using other such primitive means of 
agriculture, it is surprising that more peo- 



138 An American Girl in Mexico. 

pie do not hasten to seek their fortunes 
there. 

Only by evincing interest and admiration 
can an American gain entree into Mexican 
society — a society never so gregarious as in 
the North, and, among patricians, far more 
exclusive. Ignorance of their language — 
the only possible social medium — ^is a bar to 
intimacy. Broken Spanish as well as brok- 
en English gives one a childlike, perhaps 
simple air, and in serious moments this be- 
comes taxing. Pleasurable conversation 
depends on all participants recognizing and 
appreciating the delicate shades of the 
tongue in which it is carried on. Ameri- 
cans and Mexicans cherish the most elab- 
orate misunderstandings of one another be- 
cause of the inability of each to come into 
closer contact. While the language is nat- 
ural and rhythmical, they seem to delight in 
unpronounceable names for places. Izmict- 
lanapochalocca is the name of a port which 
the soul reaches on its journey heavenward. 



An American Girl in Mexico. 139 

Iztaccihuatl or La Miijer Blanca ( The Wo- 
man in White) is the lofty mountain near 
Mexico City that presents the appearance of 
a woman on a massive white bier, wrapped 
in her shroud of everlasting snow; lying 
there, her figure is perfectly outlined, with 
her hands folded on her breast — ^another of 
nature's peculiar departures. 

Before reaching Mexico City we passed 
through a canon called InfernillOj (Little 
Hell) full warm enough to warrant the 
name. 

San Luis Potosi is a pretty white city of 
low flat topped houses, but when, at the end 
of the week we landed at the grand capital, 
I forgot San Luis, forgot everything but the 
beauty about me. Every one that goes there 
is struck with the dazzling whiteness of the 
city. The very first breath of air is wonder- 
ful. For the first few days one does feel 
the eight thousand feet altitude by short- 
ness of breath. This is first experienced 
the night before arriving at the capital 



I40 An American Girl in Mexico. 

when passing over an elevation of eleven 
thousand feet. After this slight inconven- 
ience, though, there is a constant joy in 
living — an indescribable sensation of ec- 
stasy. A suicide in that glorious country 
is an unheard of occurrence. 

For miles and miles before reaching the 
city we passed the sign ^^Zona Torrida/' 
where began the giant trees with hanging 
vines and brilliant blossoms on the highest 
branches. This almost impenetrable forest 
is a mass of verdure from the loftiest tree top 
to the ferns at the roots, and the air is full of 
the smell of green coffee. The great wide 
white asphalted streets are teeming with 
beautifully dressed women — dashing vic- 
torias and flower girls. Of course the 
brown laughing children are there too. It 
seemed to me the appearance must be that 
of a French capital. 

We at once began our sight-seeing, con- 
trary to the directions in the guide book to 
"Best two days." First we went to the 



An American Girl in Mexico. 141 

grand art studio, where in cool white galler- 
ies are displayed pictures by the old masters. 
One immense painting, coyering almost one 
side of a room, represented Abraham on the 
verge of sacrificing Isaac, and the angel stay- 
ing his hand. It is the grandest painting 
I ever saw, the expression of perfect obedi- 
ence on Isaac's face — the stern suffering of 
Abraham's — I could have lingered before 
this one alone for hours. There are all 
kinds of pictures ; landscapes, portraits, and 
still life ; also a grand hall of sculpture. On 
all sides are students in linen aprons copy- 
ing pictures — purpose and genius on every 
face — until it does indeed seem like Paris. 
The Spanish are a talented and ingeni- 
ous people. They excel in painting, music 
and sculpture, and nothing displays more 
genius than their weaving of the scrapes, 
and the drawn work of the '^peonsJ' They 
are too dreamy and poetical for practical 
life, and, were it not for enterprising Amer- 
icans, they would live their little lives in 



142 An American Girl in Mexico. 

ignorance of the treasures stored about 
them; still, they quietly resent the ap- 
propriation of their rights by Americans. 

There seems to be a lurking jealousy in 
the heart of each one you meet; a precon- 
ceived determination not to be friends. 
They are inclined to be very distrustful of 
^^Gringoes/' as they call Americans. 

Their antipathy for Americans seems 
more intense the deeper into the interior one 
goes, so that it cannot be entirely accounted 
for by the ruthless manner in which Amer- 
icans have outraged their proprieties. 

There was a handsome young cousin from 
an interior city visiting the Senora and her 
children, and the three months of his visit 
were in many ways unpleasant to me, if 
laughably so. Luis Adolpho became very 
soon the hero of the home, praised for his 
eyes, his glowing color, his grace and his 
clothes. One day I told him that his 
clothing looked very American ; he declared 
he would burn them at once. His hatred 



An American Girl in Mexico. 143 

was absorbing, violent. Nothing I could 
do would change his views. Some days he 
would be merry and agreeable, drawing me 
into conversation, when, with a gesture of 
supreme disgust, he would exclaim: 

^^No recuerdo que Usted es una Ameri- 
cana F^ (I do not remember that you are an 
American.) His cousins and the Senora 
would laughingly remonstrate with him, but 
all to no avail. 

When the telephone rang he usually 
answered it, for they love their telephone 
very much — here they can engage in con- 
versation otherwise forbidden. If some 
poor unfortunate called for me he would ex- 
claim, '^ Gringo F' and slam the receiver into 
place. I came in from a little jaunt once 
and found every photograph I possessed 
marked "No good." Luis Adolpho had done 
this. It was the only English at his com- 
mand. When his father told him he wished 
to send him to college in the States, 



144 An American Girl in Mexico. 

Luis Adolpho declared lie would not be 
branded by such a ^^vereguenza'^ (shame). 

He was supposed to be very much in love 
with a pretty girl living nearby ; one day he 
came in and announced that she was no 
longer his '^dulce carazon/^ for someone had 
said she looked like an American, and he 
lamented deeply that he had wasted money 
by having her serenaded. 

Although people say their politeness is a 
veneering, and among the ^^peons^^ it 
does amount to obsequiousness, I think 
even a Frenchman would have to look to his 
laurels before a high-born Mexican. Though 
it may lack sincerity, there is a beautiful 
grace in his every bow — in every movement 
— a grace that it is impossible to imitate. 

The National Museum contains treasures 
of much greater interest than prosaic mu- 
seums usually have, with their following of 
tired school teachers. Here is Maximilian's 
coach, mounted in gold with gold cupids on 
it, and lined with white satin and lace, a 



An American Girl in Mexico. 145 

luxurious equipage; here, too, the calendar 
stone upon which seven hundred human be- 
ings lost their heads in a day. 

On the eastern end of the Alameda, in 
Mexico City, has long stood one of the most 
palatial homes in Mexico — doubtless the 
grandest in the Kepublic. The stairs and 
corridor floors are of the purest marble; 
out of the corridors open about fifty per- 
fectly furnished rooms. The magnificent 
dining hall is a hundred feet long, furnished 
in rosewood and mahogany. The glisten- 
ing floor is in rare mosaics. In this room 
are several thousand pieces of exquisitely 
painted china, sparkling glass, and silver- 
ware. 

Fairylike in tlheir daintiness are the bed- 
chambers, with their soft lace draperies and 
hand embroidered sheets. The parlor fit- 
tings are beautiful ; every chair is in a frame 
of massive gold, under sparkling chandeliers 
that cost enough to keep a modest family in 
comfort for a lifetime. In this room is 



146 An American Girl in Mexico. 

a table of inlaid wood showing the face of a 
beautiful young girl — a piece of workman- 
ship without a parallel. The air is filled 
with music of passionate sweetness, for the 
love of music is inherent with the^ whole na- 
tion. 

The Cathedral is magnificent, but the re>- 
cent substitution of wooden floors for tiling 
detracts greatly from its beauty. There is 
no telling the money that has been spent on 
that building, and in it. The jeweled crown 
on the Virgin Mary cost thousands of dol- 
lars — paid for chiefly by the hordes of poor 
who worship there. 

Mexicans are natural gamblers. Even 
small boys sit on the streets all day long at 
some winning or losing game. I was pres- 
ent on one occasion when a car driver ex- 
cused himself to his passengers, and stepped 
down to engage in a wayside game, of heads 
and tails. In a few minutes he came back, 
having pocketed his winnings, and, thank- 
ing us for our patience, drove on. All day 



An American Girl in Mexico. 147 

men and women pass back and forth on the 
streets with their little game cocks — -for 
thus they make or lose a living. Every- 
body buys lottery tickets. They are sold 
on the street by newsboys like daily papers. 
Roulette is another thing that has a strong- 
hold on the public. Fortunes are made and 
lost in a single night in the roulette quar- 
ters. 

Much has been written of Chapultepec — 
the home of the revered President Porflrio 
Diaz, who is really a grand man. Nothing 
has ever been written in his praise that has 
said too much — he is the stronghold of the 
Republic. In order to appreciate that white 
palace on the hill one must see it, 'A more 
fitting location could not be found, with a 
fine view of snow-capped Popocatepetl in 
the distance, and framed by the nearer 
mountains. The people love their president 
as Queen Victoria's subjects loved her. 

The Paseo de la Reforma is the "swell" 
drive of Mexico City — it is to the Mexicans 



148 An American Girl in Mexico. 

what Champs Elysees is to Parisians — a 
broad, shady avenue leading to Chapultepec 
— beautiful in every detail, with its magnifi- 
cent statues every few blocks — for the Span- 
ish spare no pains to beautify their capital. 

Big "double-decker" cars run through the 
city, killing several sleepy ^'peons'' daily, 
down among the slums. Cars run out to the 
little villages near the city, clustering 
among the mountains; these are delightful 
trips to take. A few minutes' ride and 
one is transported to a sleepy little hamlet, 
as quiet as a buried city, whose peaceful 
streets it is a delight to wander through. 

There is no place, though, so lovely as the 
flower market. It occupies one block of 
ground and is a mass of poppies, violets, 
roses, lilies and carnations, with their in- 
toxicating perfume. 

I priced one mammoth bouquet of Amer- 
ican beauty roses. "Five dollars," was the 
I)rompt answer. 

"No, indeed," I said; so he dropped to 



An American Girl in Mexico. 149 

two dollars without further parley. Still I 
refused to buy, and he kept falling until 
finally he followed me up the street and 
asked me to take it for twenty-five cents, 
which is much less than twelve and a half 
in our money. Fancy my triumph at get- 
ting my arms full of American Beauty 
roses at such a figure! One day at 
the fruit market I asked for twenty-five 
cents' worth of oranges, and was appalled 
when the woman counted out thirty-seven 
large ones and beckoned me to take them. 
On the way down we had made a stop where 
hundreds of peddlers boarded the train with 
great bouquets of orchids for sale, and would 
not fall, as is customary, in their price. Ke^ 
gretfully we were thinking of having refused 
them, worth as many dollars in the United 
States as they demanded in cents here, 
when we got another chance at them. 
While the train was circling twelve miles 
around the mountain these natives had 
scrambled down two thousand feet and were 



150 An American Girl in Mexico. 

waiting for us at the station, ready to 
"close" at any offer we made. Then we 
understood why they had been firm in their 
first offer. 

Victorias can be rented on any corner for 
fifty, seventy-five cents and a dollar an hour, 
and as many people as can get in may go at 
that price. Those at fifty cents an hour are 
likely to contain fleas, for the low class peo- 
ple use them; the others are quite elegant. 
We did not know the difference when we 
first arrived, until we were nearly devoured 
by fleas, and some one explained why it was. 
It is not at all amiss to discuss fleas there, 
though. I have seen Concepcion and Ko- 
sita make a dive after one right in company 
without even saying ''Con permiso/^ 

The cheap carriages have tiny yellow 
metal flags on the seat by the driver, the 
next price red, and the finest one a blue flag. 

The only way I could remember which was 
which, was by saying in my mind, "yellow 
for yellow Mexican, red for ordinary red- 



An American Girl in Mexico. 151 

blooded individuals, and the blue for the 
blue-blooded people." Though very childish 
this served the purpose. The prices are re- 
markable when one considers the difference 
in money. 

The change of money is rather confusing 
at first, and the mind involuntarily runs a 
figure two through every price. A person 
feels wonderfully rich when the money is 
changed going over, and he gets more than 
two dollars for one. But how flat the purse 
coming back and changing the money at 
Laredo, when exchange is probably as low as 
thirty-five cents for a dollar. 

When one steps into a carriage there is al- 
ways a dirty little boy who runs beside it, no 
matter how fast it may be going, until he 
is panting for breath. The only way he ever 
gets left is by stopping to challenge some 
other urchin who is trying to take his place. 
One day while on a shopping expedition, I 
decided to go to the post office to see if my 
name was posted up there among the list 



152 An American Girl in Mexico. 

put up daily in Spanish for letters of no 
particular address. I left my parcels in the 
carriage, and the little urchin, smiling 
sweetly at me as I went in, assured me that 
he would watch them for me. 

When I returned there was a great com- 
motion in the vicinity of the carriage, every 
one of them berating my little attendant for 
being a ratero, which he stoutly denied. 
I appeared upon the scene, and a young 
Mexican man, bowing low, told me that the 
little boy had stolen a comb. As I turned to 
reprove him, he snatched it from his shirt 
bosom and tossing it toward me, fled down 
the street — a policeman at his heels. I 
watched him out of sight and was glad to see 
him gaining ground. The very next day I 
saw the little fellow on the street, and he 
smiled an unashamed smile of recognition. 
'Tis a pathetic sight to see the little fel- 
lows almost running their legs off for the 
sake of a possible penny. 

Three days we devoted to the ascent and 



i 



An American Girl in Mexico. 153 

descent of the Popocatepetl. First we 
went to the pretty town of Amecameca, then 
up to the ranchero's home and from there 
slowly by ropes we climbed, with the 
guide ahead. We wore heavy warm clothing 
and took along plenty of food. Arriving at 
the summit we were well repaid for our ex- 
ertion. A beautiful view for miles around 
us, and the triumph of being able to say we 
had climbed Popocatepetl. What had taken 
three days to climb we descended in a few 
moments. How? By taking a seat on a 
mat of rushes^ — and w-h-sh-t ! We were back 
at the ranch. Of course we were frightened, 
but not tired. It was a delightful trip, both 
ways. 

We spent one lazy month here, sightsee- 
ing when we felt inclined, and at other times 
revelling in the sunshine and music of the 
plazas. Then the Senora turned her face 
homeward with unwavering determination, 
and though we left with reluctance we en- 
joyed the return trip as much as the one 



154 ^^ American Girl in Mexico. 

down. Monterey seemed quiet, indeed, after 
the gay, noisy, flashy capital. 

Two months more slipped by and I began 
to yearn for home. ^'Breathes there a man 
with soul so dead, who never to himself hath 
said, *This is my own, my native land?' " 
became my constant refrain, and the letters 
from my loved ones made me more and more 
heartsick for a glimpse of that dear land of 
stars and stripes. I had learned to chatter 
the Spanish language quite fluently ; nearly 
a year's self-imposed exile had made me feel 
like an orphan. One day when a letter 
came, announcing the approaching marriage 
of a dear girl friend, and asking that I come 
to be bridesmaid, I told the family I was 
going home. It was at the dinner table 
that I made the announcement. The dear 
Senora dropped her face in her hands and 
began to sob. That very evening I com- 
menced my packing, and set a day for my 
departure less than a week hence. I grew 




A HAPPY HOME CIRCLE. 



I 



1 



An American Girl in Mexico. 155 

almost wild with joy at the thought of 
home — so much so that I feared the family 
would feel wounded. Never in all my twen- 
ty years of happy life had I felt such de- 
light. 

Often there had been a motley throng un- 
der my window; children and brown faced 
babies, laughing and chattering with me in 
their own tongue. I never knew why they 
loved so to come unless for an occasional 
bright bit of ribbon for the girls, and the 
^^cigarros'^ for the boys. I knew why I 
loved to have them. What girl would not 
be pleased with their pretty flattery? Such 
lovely extravagant things they would say to 
me! Sometimes I would become extravar 
gant and shower down pennies, their big 
awkward pennies. Then what a scram- 
bling there would be! Like a barnyard 
scene, when corn is scattered among the 
fowls, and such blessings as they would 
call down upon me. I learned most of their 



156 An American Girl In Mexico. 

names, and naturally there were Conchitas 
and Pedros, Carmens and Rafaels, for these 
are as inevitable in Mexico as our Smiths 
and Jones. When I told them one day that 
I was going back to the States there was a 
unanimous roar of sorrow, little brown 
grimy fists rubbed tearful eyes, and I knew 
then what true little friends I had made. 
They had really learned to love the Senorita 
Americana, and their little homely gifts 
were most touching. Treasures that they 
had carefully hoarded up were poked un- 
hesitatingly into me through the barred win- 
dow, and for once they accepted pennies 
without evident joy. 

I had grown so roundfaced during the 
year that I was almost afraid the home 
folks would not know me, and hoped I hadn't 
forgotten how to speak English. The night 
before I left, Seiiora went to the Cathedral 
to offer a prayer for my safe arrival at 
home and happiness thereafter, and gave me 



I 



An American Girl in Mexico. 157 

a beautiful pearl rosarj, which, with tears 
in her eyes, she begged me to use ; and an 
opal ring, and shed more tears over me. 

Senor Carlos brought me a brilliant 
silken shawl, and I knew it wasn't 
given in the spirit in which they usually 
give presents. If a person expresses admi- 
ration of a thing a Spaniard has, even if it 
is his carriage, he offers it to you, and in- 
sists that you take it. Of course, he doesn't 
expect you to do so, and would probably cut 
your acquaintance if you did, but he would 
be no gentleman not to offer it. One matter- 
of-fact old man I knew, was unfortunate- 
ly expressing admiration of a blanket a 
Mexican friend had when the friend began 
to insist that he take it — so the American 
did — expressing great appreciation. Nat- 
urally he was much surprised a few weeks 
later to hear that he had been called a 
thief by the giver. Of course he was ex- 
pected in a few days to send back the 



158 An American Girl in Mexico. 

blanket. But this the American did not 
know. 

There was genuine sorrow, I know, at my 
departure. Even Senor Carlos' voice broke 
as he declared I was like a sister to him, and 
left the room sobbing. 

Such love did they show in every way — 
even locking my room and declaring it 
seemed like a death chamber^ — that my rap- 
ture was mingled with grief. 

They knew I loved them and their coun- 
try; every phase of the life I had lived for 
the past year ; and so fond were they of me 
that the Senora declared she could not bear 
to think of my ever marrying a cold-hearted 
American, for I was so different — so much 
more like them ! she declared admiringly. 

Dear Senora! She would not say good- 
bye, and when I slipped in her room she was 
there on her knees, her back to the door, 
sobbing. She did not hear me enter nor 
come toward her, until I had put my arms 



1 



An American Girl in Mexico. 159 

about her and whispered ^^MamacitaF^ 
Then she wrung her hands and cried ^^Oh, 
hijita Americana, hijita/^ I kissed her and 
hurried away, blinded with tears, and have 
not seen her since, for in less than an hour I 
was speeding toward "Home, Sweet Home.'' 



THE END. 




C, vP 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

mil mil Hill mil f 




